Aunt Janet
Sutton MacDonald
When I close my eyes,
I can picture a memory.
Blurry in some parts,
crystal clear
in others.
I can remember
I can remember
i can remember
white
white walls, white floors, white
everything
too clean, too bright
sharp, gleaming, glaring
it overwhelms me
the smell of chemicals
burning up my nose
then we are in a gift shop
filled to the brim with
trinkets and toys and
little bobbles of sorts
something catches my eye
a metallic balloon
shiny and large
cinderella dances across it
her lovely skirts swooshing
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