W.Slay4Honors

The stones on the walkway were smooth and rounded, the same as the stones that towered above me in the fence surrounding the school. A warm breeze blew down the street.

Air

Air has no care

It simply is

Floating

Through hair

Around bear

Up the street

Traveling between feet

Air

I like it there

Between me and you

My invisible shield

My younger self spoke to me
Trying to make me see
I knew by this time I would be disappointed
By how much I procrastinated

My younger self spoke to me
Telling me what I forgot
All my memories taken with a snapshot

     It was October, but Margo was still wearing short summer skirts. Her bulky swear fell over the skirt in a perfect wave and her bangs covered most of her eyes, although the rest was only shoulder length.