ThisIsMyLetterToTheWorld

Nighttime: 

My eyes drooping.

The night sky, black as paint.

The nocturnal still venture out in 

these ungodly hours. 

By Edie Taylor, 10, Montpelier, submitted by Lauren Chabot, Main Street Middle School

“Why do the small things matter to you?”

I’ve never been asked this question, 

but I’ve thought about it numerous times. 

Why do they? 

There to Discuss

Their Rights at Bay-

Gathered in a Room 

There, their word lay

She's Trapped-

She's Separate-

Sad and Mad the same-

Escape is a Mere Memory

The Connection that Lies Beyond

Past Grave

Past Ground

The Connection is all Around

Talking to Thoughts

Loved - not lost - 

Talking to them - with tenderness

When a name is said

It echoes

Dreary and sad

I'd rather not have a name

So I cannot be defined

Or have a name

That remains unknown

To thoughts and words surround