www.whyville.net Apr 7, 2013 Weekly Issue



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Whyville Poet

Little Things

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The wind blows through the trees,
The ice forms inside of me.
Cold to the core,
With no warmth to account for.

The grass sways back and fourth,
And I find shapes in the clouds above.
There once was a time where I was like this,
It's a time that I dearly miss.

Enjoying the simple things used to be so easy,
Skipping rocks on the lake.
Catching fireflies in lids with holes in the top,
It's funny how feelings can suddenly flop.

Flying kites in the gust,
Laying in the bed of a pickup truck, stargazing.
The enjoyment for these little things has escaped me,
I don't really know what's wrong with me lately.

I used to stop to admire the flowers,
In the past I'd smell them and smile.
Now, I just walk right past;
It seems my mind has changed too fast.

Jumping on beds and playing hide n' go seek,
Holding your hand when we walk through the park.
But all of the sudden, my life has turned dark;
And these little things no longer leave their mark.

Playing in the snow and the leaves,
Throwing snowballs and jumping in the leaf piles . . .
Even as a teen, I'd do these things;
The memory of it pulls on my heartstrings.

There once was a time where I could find light in this darkened world
But it seems that I've lost the ability to appreciate the finer things.
The darkness is consuming me,
And the little things; I no longer see.

I wonder if I'll be lost forever, in this trap I call my mind;
Or maybe I'll be wise enough to find my way out.
Someday I'll return to that old park
And smelling those flowers may set off a spark.

Maybe it would inspire me to do all of these things again,
But the hope for that is long past.
Until I can avert my gaze from the darkness of this path,
The only little things I'll ever feel are sadness and wrath.

 

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