An Ode to the Day


To the day before another day

 a special day

Where two people met for the first time

Where bonds were formed like muscles

and piercing cries echoed empty hallways.

Pale blue pant sets worn over street clothes

Protection of what’s to come.

 

She swears she won’t know what to do with it now

But she’ll figure it out with time.

By 21 she’s cried for 21 years on the same day

Because after today she can’t go back

and teach whats already been taught.

 

Candles flicker in a black room

and people smile,but her.

She knows that her baby has grown

and wont need her,but forever she will be there

Anyway.

 

Tomorrow is my Birthday, and every year I cry the night before. It’s a personal tradition I guess. I hate getting old.

Sarah

Advertisements