Rebecca White

The Warmth Hidden in Winter

By Rebecca White
Hartford High School, Grade 9

It's strange how rain is loud and thundering,
while snow is so peaceful and subversive.

They are the almost opposite of each other,
but they are made up of the same.

Snow just floats, with big coated puffs delicate and light.

Like a breath of air caught and frozen.

That is the true secret of winter, the hidden warmth drifting out of the clouds.

Like a hush reverberating across the world.
Snow and Rain. Yin and Yang.

Rain deep, mysterious, only to quiet with harsh cries.
Snow thoughtful and kind, light, open and caring.
A hitting hand and an open palm.

How can the secret of warmth be so overlooked, while the bluntness of rain is so widely recognized?

Now that is the a winter tale to be told.

Eating popcorn till yours lips tingle with salt and tears.

Your eyes drip with happiness and sadness blended into a mix of wet.

Just being your over-dramatic-self-depressed-mess.

Why do you care.

Your love has been shattered and stirred into the twizler, chocolate, candy stew of memories.

Over-indulgence mixed with guilt ridden excersise habbits.

Just trying to cope, get by, live.

Happiness a second best. A smile something to forget.

Awkward Love

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I sit here swinging
My feet back
And forth over the
Concrete barrier.

The sweating summer air
Kissing my tanned
Hot skin.

As the fireflies buzz by
In a bright flurry
Of translucent wings.

Zipping past my knees
As I throw dandelion petals
Into the deep river water.

The contrast of the thoughtful
Wise water
And
The anxious passionate
Air
Seems to mix at the surface
Pooling my emotions
At its face.

I hear the crunch of sandals
On twigs as
I move my hair behind
My ears.

The noise gets closer
And I turn
Around To see
Him.

Mathew is standing over me
smiling.

His hands in his pockets
Trying to look casual.
His blond hair is shaggier than
During school months.
He has sun freckles on his nose
Like a little wingspan
Over his cheeks.
“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He sits beside me looking
Out over the river.

He looks at me and smiles again.

Fear

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I’m afraid to grow up,
afraid to move on without
fully experiencing.

I remember when I took
being young for
granted.

I watch my days carefully,
like a cat ready to pounce.

Keeping,
or at least trying
to stay positive.

I try to ignore, forget, vanquish,
the voice that tells me
I’m wrong.

But I’m afraid.

Afraid that one day I’ll wake up,
family-less and broke.

A pointless life beyond
checking for
textual misdemeanors.

Afraid to be
alone.
To grow old.

Not for looks
or posture’s sake,

But for time.

We all have such
a limited
time.

The hand that holds me
slowly slipping loose
the warmth in my fingers
draining out.

I’m afraid that I’ll never get to say
Goodbye.

Sky's Diary 3-19-08

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

Dear Diary,

Dear Diary,
God I love chocolate. They say is creates a sense of "love" or passion. No wonder guys always give it for Valentines Day, they can shmooze every girl in sight with a couple of chocolate coated sweets. In other news I'm siting on me bed devouring a box of heart candies, right now I'm licking the cherry center out of a dark brown one. Mmmm, so good.

Dear Diary,

The beginning of the End

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

The way I see you
standing over
Me
I know it’s just the
beginning.

The air goes cold and
my blood beats
faster.

Pumping through me like
fire through
a frozen world.

You scream and yell,
calling me those
hideous names.

Saying I am useless,
reckless,
nothing but a flea to you.

I close my eyes shutting out the tears.
I pull myself together even when no one is near.
I carry a burden to heavy the weight of
The world is
Easy
I wander aimlessly along in my life,
As is I’m just a background character in my own show.

Faking a smile, a laugh, or even a compliment.
Though deep inside I can feel myself crumble
Dripping away from my former being.

Fever

By Rebecca
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

My mind slipping,
my fingers so frail,
scrapping,
crawling.

Breath cold on my chest,

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

I remember the sounds of crying children and women screaming at their husbands. Parked car alarms barking down the street with ear bleeding capacity. The smell of gasoline along with the ever present food rot stench burned my nostrils. I had never taken notice of these common things, thought that everywhere was like this place. Just like a mouse born and raised in box wouldn’t think there was another place beside the box itself.

Three days I’ve been sitting, waiting, watching, and unknowing of what’s to come. Cold sweat prickles on my arm like dew drops on the surrounding garden petals. I must get over that wall; I have only a short time before the light runs out.

Prince

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 8

Being a prince is hard enough, especially when you one of eight brothers. Yes, you can have fancy robes and your bed is always made for you. Your hair is slicked back in tight lace ribbons by a maid whose only job is your wardrobe. It may seem like a life of luxury and extravagance, but it is more a cruel joke for outsiders.

Listen to the people

By Rebecca White
Hartford Memorial Middle, Grade 7

Dear George,