By: Kimberly Potter Kendrick Opening her eyes she could not see Blackness filled the air Not a speckle of light anywhere Reaching her hands about Familiarity The softness of the yellow sheets A feather pillow On her knees she crawled…

By: Adreyo Sen When the little girl was very little, her dearest possession was her pillow, a soft, shapeless thing of blue cotton. To her, its smell was the most beautiful thing in the world. The little girl carried her pillow…