Duck, Duck, Goose

    It is Sunday afternoon.  I wait.  Anxiously.
    “Mommy, Elizabeth here yet?”
    “No, honey.”
    “How much longer?”
    “I don’t know.”
    She here yet?
    Yeah.  Yeah, she here.  You here?
    Yes.  No.  Maybe.

    We sit.  With my sister. 
    The kind of sunlight that only happens on a Sunday afternoon pours in through the windows. 

    We sit.  We play “Duck, duck, goose.” 
    Silhouetted figures dance in front of my eyes.  No people.  No colors.  Nothing but shadows, and sunlight.

    “Black,” my sister says, touching her hair.
    “Black,” she says, touching my hair.
    “White,” she says, touching its hair.
    “No,” it says, “blonde.”
   
    Flashes.  Sunlight bounces off the blonde hair.  It shines in my eyes.  Still, I don’t see anything but shadows.
    Nothing but shadows.  And sunlight.
 

Reviews

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This makes me think of the typical dazes that children have.
If there is some underlying meaning in this piece, I definitely won't be able to figure it out.

Good imagery and contrast with the shadows and sunlight.