Writing

I like to think 

that if our friends;

sometimes the closest people in our life,

can see us for our soul.

Then so can others. 

It’s 6 AM at the end of September, and Vermont's trees are transitioning into their autumn beauty. The mornings are my favorite: the quiet, peacefulness, and calm of the world are one of a kind.

Walking through the college greens 

On a warm night

Some random song stuck in my head

Playing on repeat once again

Smelling the new flowers blooming 

In the garden near my favorite picnic table

I put my turn signal on and pull off of the pavement. I open my car door and breathe in the spring air. I see new leaves, green, on the trees, and potholes that I dodge and jump as I start skipping.

Hello

My name is Jaden

I am fifteen

And this is a poem

About me

About how I feel

Being a teenager

In 2025

Distance

Rain

Endless nights

With no end in sight

they gather in shadow beyond the monuments
no longer chiseled names but men again
haunted by what they see
each bearing the weight of his vision now worn
washington stands first
his hands once steady on the reins of power