*I recently rediscovered my portfolio from a creative writing class that I took in high school. While going through the binder, I found this poem that I wrote. I can’t exactly remember what inspired me to write it, but I do remember that I loved writing the story. I haven’t written any poetry in years, and writing poetry has never been a great strength of mine, but while I am in a reminiscent mood, I am deciding to post this! Hope you enjoy!
In the corner of the living room was
An album of unbearable photos.
Her fingers turn through the pages
And her eyes gaze,
Yet it pains her to remember
When she was young.
She recalls the occasion when she smiled
Opposite the flash:
Colors swirled in the sky for independence,
Bands played jazz on the common for animated crowds,
He held her tightly while they swayed
In rhythm with the breeze-stirred branches.
The girl she visualized was lovely at seventeen.
Her cares were simple.
Excitement was her constant company.
She was stunning and blossoming.
Now she wonders.
Where is her passion?
Where is her spirit?
Where is her past?
Where does she exist?
She barely knows the keeper of memories.
She lets the record player take her to 1940;
And then a small song, a little smile, and then nothing.