Faded report card crinkled and worn

Faded report card, crinkled, and worn,

'Has a natural talent'—a child once adorned.

Old crayons pooled bright, their colors like laughter,

a joy that slipped slowly, a flicker, a disaster.

Now the paper feels heavy, each stroke stumbles, too late,

where once I drew dreams, now I question my fate.

The smell of chalk dust is muted by time,

my fingers brush failure, no longer in rhyme.