Young Writers Project

it was barely audible

yet soft and sure

in the heat of the moment. 

what?

I ask

even though I know what you said. 

I know the weight 

and the feeling

Today, I watched boys climbing a log stuck vertically in the sand

And girls kicking at leaves just for the fun of it,

And oh, when did our youth slip through the backdoor unnoticed,

mother! i cry, captive of the wind

carrying my voice for those to hear who

accept failure is not an option & instead pursue

the package of progress, the patch of promise

a battle cry to be heard,