**Writings is a series of posts, as we close out 2017, featuring work by the teen writers participating in our Teen Day program. **
Through a frosted window I watch as snowdrops dance.
They flutter down so gracefully, but turn to water as they reach the ground.
The snow begins to coat the arms of barren trees, and slowly hides the tips of grasses.
The flowers are frozen until springs’ warm breath will raise them from their slumber.
Night has arrived, and I step outside to see that a heavy blanket of winter has fallen.
Walking down the charming streets, the only lights come from olden lamps, and strings of flickering reds and greens. The light shines on the snow making it twinkle in the darkness.
The world around me is still; Only silvery threads drift across the night skies.
—Allyson Moran
Seashell
I lift a seashell—the one that
twinkled and shone at me.
In a box with its comrades,
it stood alone. I saw only its color
the rainbow of color, begging to be freed.
I did not see its broken body.
I hold it in my hand. The iridescent color
reflects the light, a reminder of
a mermaid’s scales, or perhaps a dragon’s.
Broken and sharded, ribbed and scaled,
it is beauty—dead and gone.
The broken wing of a lovely bird,
she will never fly again.
—Romneya Quennell
TEEN DAY Ithaca 