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Spring and Summer were SistersHere's to
Me and Selene under the umbrella
'N Sorcha's popsicle mustache
And make-believe and
Our innocent dreams.
Spring and Summer frolicking
in the grass
And picking dandelions-
Lots and lots of dandelions,
Laughing and spinning and smiling
In a field full of white fluff flying
with our happiness.
Here's to the days
Where we were ourselves and
Nobody else, except
Faeries and princesses and performers and
Dreaming dreaming dreamers.
Here's to the
Friend I loved, and the Toby I didn't
And the frog from school
Hopping on the hard wood floor
And you and me.
Here's to Breyer's organic peach ice cream
That I still ask for when I'm sad,
Probably because I ate it with you.
Your smile is engraved in my memory
And in my heart
Please, don't let me ever forget it
Or the memories I cherish so much.
Spring and Summer in the soccer field
And the best days of my life.
Something Poetic About a TreeSomething poetic
Grew in my mind
About a tree
Before worthless thoughts
spread like weeds.
Now all that remains is a
Single, brown brush stroke
That branches from
Child of MineHer hair was like autumn. It had all shades of brown, from trace amounts of it so dark it was nearly black, to so light it blended into the natural highlights of golds and blondes shining through. And in the sun, you realized that indeed she was her mothers child, with hints of red radiating. To add the golden flecks in her young dancing brown eyes, it was like bare feet running through the fallen leaves.
To see this child, and then to hear her diagnoses, to know how greatly she would suffer for only God knew how long, was nearly unbearable.
To see the child brave through it all, determination waving through, made her even more beautiful to those who did not know her personally, those who did not know that she was even more beautiful on the inside.
Then came a day when her eyes didnt dance. She was so tired, in so much pain, that her mind could not think right. But she pulled through, and her eyes danced again, brighter than ever, fully knowing just ho
I Still Have His NoteI wonder if he knows I still have his note
When he yells at me
and when I yell at him
And when I want to slap him
and when he wants to punch me
I wonder if he knows I still have his note
E=MC [ ]
Hi Alex! psst!
Do you know youre the bestest big sister in the world?
In my favorite music box
(the beautiful, big piano music box
from Grandmas friend, Josephine,
the pretty one with the dancing ballerina, that I
Love, love, love, love, love)
I still have his barely legible
written on a sticky-note
Does he know, after
That I still cherish and
Love, love, love, love, love
Surely he doesnt even remember the note.
It wasnt a big deal or anything, see,
just a little note
from a little boy,
Love, love, love, love, love.
I e=mc [ ] you too, Bubby.
FFM- After I Climbed the MountI had climbed for days to reach the top of the mountain. I needed some time to think, some time to ponder. I didnt bring much, just bread, water, a couple changes of clothes and a Bible. And I suppose it just made sense that God would be closer at the top of the mountain.
I looked down on the world, well, not the world, but thats what it was in my mind. I was looking down at the world from above. Was that how God felt, up there in Heaven, watching us? Probably not, since you cant really compare anything to God. Either way, I was up there, separate from the rest of the world, just thinking about anything and everything and nothing.
I thought about anything, like peanut butter, ants, and teacups. I thought about everything, like life and death and God. I could explain all my thoughts and conclusions, but I dont want to right now. Its probably something that everyone needs to figure out
Not your plushie -mild lang.-He sat there whining, asking me why I would not play the War card game with him. The ungrateful brat! I had been begging him to play a game with me not an hour earlier and he refused.
"You want to play a card game, Kyle? How 'bout 'fifty-two pick up!'" I shouted, throwing the deck or cards in his face and storming angrily out of the room.
Well, what can I expect? He is his father's son, after all.
Then again, so am I. Why'd I get stuck with him as a father? I mean, he has his moments, but I swear it's just to give us hope so that he can crush it. Heh, time and time again he does it, but that damned boy is a puppy dog. Wagging his tail, licking his face, doing anything for his master's affection. It doesn't matter that less than an hour later he'll be the recipient of his father's heart-burning shouts, his head cocked in confusion as to what he did wrong...surely he must have done something wrong, right? But just like the puppy dog h
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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