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Crayon Box Dreams

As a child, colors weave the way I dream, Then what I feel and how I perceive. My humming voice a dandelion stream. Carnation pink, fairytales I used to believe. As I grow my color palette shifts, From rainbow of softness to only neutral gray. I wear black heels, prepare neon gifts For dinner parties I have to stay. Sometimes I remember, how colors linger, How my fingers once, on paper, dragged out hue. It smears my dream in orange and lavender, My crayon box, the only thing staying true. I know my paintings inevitably go unseen, Still, every night, I color my dream spring green.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 6/3/2025 1:38:00 AM
This is lovely. l have vivid memories of my very first paint box, l think l must have been bout 4 yrs old. Now l paint my childhood in colours. Thank you for sharing your lovey writing. J
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Date: 6/2/2025 9:08:00 AM
Very beautiful- you rhyme well, "How my fingers once, on paper, dragged out hue." gorgeous
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Tsai Avatar
Jasmine Tsai
Date: 6/2/2025 7:40:00 PM
Thank you so much, Paige <3

Book: Reflection on the Important Things