Student Publishing Program ::

Emma Feinberg

Sundays Past

Bright bed sheets touching my skin.
The smell of sweet pancakes, sausages, and maple syrup,
Circling throughout the house.
I take in the scents.
Let them flow throughout my body until they reach my toes.
I hear you humming sweetly over the sizzle of the hot skillet.

My toes curl over the bed sheets.
My face scrunches with happiness.
I scamper downstairs.
Run to the doorway.

Your eyes are soft in tenderness.
Shadows of clear satin fill your pupils.
Scruffs of hair sculpt your hard bone structure.
A sweet smile filled with warmth.

Abruptly you and the scenery are sucked into the black hole in my mind.
I wake and you are gone.
My dream is gone.
Of bright bed sheets,
Of clear satin,
Of sundayʼs past.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2012 EDITION]