Feet dangle inches above
Tantalizingly taunting …
They strive to graze the bicycle’s pedals,
Just as my hands strive to emerge
From the lemon yellow dress
You handed down to me.
My slow growth is too far behind
Your quick judgment,
Constantly comparing a hazy reflection
To that black and white photograph
You have framed in the hallway.
Maybe someday the dress will fit.
Tantalizingly taunting …
They strive to graze the bicycle’s pedals,
Just as my hands strive to emerge
From the lemon yellow dress
You handed down to me.
My slow growth is too far behind
Your quick judgment,
Constantly comparing a hazy reflection
To that black and white photograph
You have framed in the hallway.
Maybe someday the dress will fit.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
Marquesha B. 
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