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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() my mother ran into you today at the park by the lake where we had our first bath in nature six autumns ago and that was the first time we had escaped from our parent's houses for though it was four in the evening november is always early as the
friendly little singing morning birds and so orange as the waters were and chilly as the crimson winds were our skins felt the beauty and pain of fading love in those cold ripples bordered with a soft warmth of love like the few last fragments of auburn autumn leaves that fell on us from the old maple tree you were sitting by when she saw you i ended up walking down the road crunching the dried leaves to the long quaint seat you loved to sit on by the lakeside and i sat on it today wondering if you still come here you must this place is still charming the leaves are scattered around freely i wonder if they still remember us i wonder if they lie awake each night thinking of our boyish madness like i do or if they ever saw us playing that game where we ran around in circles linking hands laughing the way old friends do i wonder where they think we are now i wonder if they perhaps think we are on that trip we wanted to go to the one we drew pictures of sung songs of yet here i am sitting in this lovely place holding the book of poems you gave me last day at school i asked you to lend me your notebook for i had missed the notes of some biology chapter and while giving it back to you i said that your handwriting was still the same like it was six autumns ago and so to that you smiled your old lemon-hued sunflower smile and took the book from me without saying anything though my torn heart longed to hear your rosy voice it had last heard six autumns ago and so when i returned home i looked at the red "bff" rock you had given me on my tenth birthday and wondered if you truly remember me or if i would ever get the answer to what happened to us why did we fall like amber autumn leaves like the things i can never understand why we have to let go of Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
November 2023
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