Then:
Stories of a Girl
There are stories on these shelves, but not the ones in print.
A secret sealed within the pages each carries a unique scent.
The small red book smells of wood and cinder.
In those pages lies a little girl with bouncing little curl who knows nothing of fear.
The brown book holds an older child just as free as before.
The Good Book teaches her values, parables, and more.
Fallen on its side, a cover of fading pink, a little diary.
Inside lies the sweet secrets it hides.
A little child is learning, but not only at school.
She watches her sister’s action learning people are just tools.
Within battered book of worn thin pages lies a precious treasure.
The little girl with bouncing curls no longer as innocent as before.
The summer days and bloody sunset as left her tainted.
A little book that is locked shut. The key has been long forgotten.
The bright eyed girl now has troubles, and her secrets hide within.
Yet none must know, so they’re left untold.
Above the scarlet clock sits a world full of magic.
Hides again a girl who now knows the word of fear.
She fears the names, but not the pain.
She is learning on her own. She has learned to be numb.
Than there lies in a little nook a black silk covered book.
Almost hidden from the eye, few realize the beauty it hides.
The scent of spring rain and summer days, and a white rose faded away.
Just like a girl from those days.
Adventurous tales full of boisterous people yet it holds silent secrets.
She holds her tongue and they have their fun, but no one knows the truth.
Her silence she keeps, but in her sleep no one can silence her dreams.
There is a book of an orphaned immersed in a world of magic.
These stories hold many girls that span the teenage years.
They shelter lonely spirits longing for the friendships there.
These are the stories upon the shelves
These are the stories of the girl
Now:
Life is but a stage
Drawing the curtain close on the play once called life
Stepping off the stage with a final goodbye
Curtain calls of all your friends listing who they were
A brief ovation full of tears, than peace
The lights go out, the stage is cleared,
And soon the mass will forget the play held here.
YOU ARE READING
Moonlight
PoesiaA series of poems that act as a memoir for my years of high school. Written in pairs. Each part starts with a poem that shows my feelings at the time then move on to how I feel about them now.
