Looking up outside the lake house, the winter cold still hasn't left. The spots where I took the their photos of memories, were also still their. I always went alone to check the places where which I've met the best, even though they forgotton of me. The cold, dark brisk lied in this part of my head only, as the ice never melted. Wish upon a star, not for greed, but for company for the lost.
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Nostalgia
ContoAll of my most important, missing, bonding, and magical memories from my childhood that I remember and cherish in poetry form/short story form. By Tamara Dovodja
