by Natalie Wallace

My name is whispered,
it is shouted and spoken,
I can hear them all.

Carried by a breeze,
through a quiet languid night,
he whispered my name.

Over the music,
and the loud singing people,
he shouted my name.

Filling in the space,
after a conversation,
he speaks my name.

PHOTOGRAPH: Natalie Wallace (taken on March 42015 by Lydia Law).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Natalie Wallace is a cheerful spirit who enjoys reading, writing, and drinking Jasmine tea. She has an unhealthy obsession with no-name bands and teen romance novels. She aspires to study Media/Communications at Chapman University. You can find her work on Eskimo Pie, Leaves of Ink, Forced Entries, and the Cerritos Library Website. Follow her blog teenliterati.tumblr.com.