Reid@YWP

"Oh, what did you say, child? Why?"

"Yes, why? Why do we live? Why do we exist? Why?" 

"I think it's a lot simpler than you might believe, child. Just look at the flowers."

I’ve heard too many times

The excuses of our nation

That change would be too hard,

Too frightening 

That it would take too long

But why are we arguing

About something so necessary

How to be? 

How to take that first most subtle glimpse behind what has been, 

How to do it again or for the first time,

The string of memories burns my hand,

My 12-year-old self can barely understand.

The balloon is purple, her favorite color,

She is my great-grandmother.

The air in the balloon is filled with every memory I remember,