Emma rides in the back of the school bus, school trip to Nashville.
High school is the same, but even worse. It’s snowing, though March.
Her head rests against the cool glass, the snowflakes caught in passing
streetlamps and store fronts, leaving school at 6 AM, before the sun.
Her headphones play something lush and enveloping, a warm aural hug.
The others are either sleeping or laughing and talking, fitting like rivets.
She looks at the snow, which won’t be much, but offers a dream right now.
She wants to be a part of what’s going on. She’s afraid of losing herself, too.
Three hours on the highway, and her MP3 player won’t last that long.
There’s a book in her knapsack, about a darker world, more like home.
The clouds hide the stars, and the moon, which is her guiding glow in the dark.
There’ll all having fun, and it looks so inviting, but they’d wipe away her face.