A sheet flaps in the wind.
It is yellow, a lively
and fresh color.

The little girl wraps
it around herself and twirls.

A sheet flaps in the wind.
It is yellow, a lively
and fresh color.
The edges are frayed.

The girl takes it off the line,
letting it stream and trail
and twist behind her.

A sheet flaps in the wind.
It was yellow, a lively
and fresh color.
It has dimmed.
The edges are frayed.

The girl takes it off the line,
and carries it inside.
She barely thinks about it.

A sheet flaps in the wind.
It was yellow,
but now it is gray.
The edges are torn.

The young teen girl takes it off the line,
and lays it down on the ground.
She watches the clouds that afternoon.

A sheet flaps in the wind.
It was yellow,
but now it is gray.
Odd spots pepper its surface.
The edges are torn.

The teenager takes it off the line, wearily,
worriedly.
The lines under her eyes are dark,
and the liveliness is replaced with 'realism'.

A sheet flaps in the wind.
It was yellow,
but now it is gray.
Odd spots blot its surface.
The edges are torn,
the material is thinning.

The young woman takes it off the line.
Her face is too old for her body
And is lined with sadness and
freckled with sunspots.

She throws the sheet away,
and walks back inside.

The corner flaps idly in the wind.