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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1306953-THE-END
by Shea
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1306953
a poem to recount an three amazing classes and the close of possibility to more
Three books 1-2-3
They weigh the same, look the same, feel the same, sound the same, smell the same, cost the same, thud the same as you drop them one by one. I'm sure if I gave them a chance they would taste the same.
Three books, the same?
Sappy, sappier and melancholy

Three books, three years
Fucking car to packing heat
First semester to the last
A timid to a writer
Three very vivid memories:
Ezzie sitting in the middle of the room as we all draw him
A circle of writers waiting to share their fiction that couldn't be closer to the truth
A scattered classroom making themselves comfortable for just one class

I will miss school
I will miss finding my core through a semesters worth of writing only to lose it and start all over again
I will miss the book and the character it grows as it makes way around the room
I will miss the look when unknown brilliance is discovered
I will miss the beginning of the semester when each new student thinks George is nuts
I will remember my first class, the one that convinced me I was not ready for college
I will remember the faces
I will remember the smiles
I will remember the laughter
I will remember the fading insecurities
I will remember the tears
I will remember the most important discoveries....

Three books; maybe I do the math: 1+2+3=.....
Me.




Shea 5-15-07
© Copyright 2007 Shea (sheacie at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1306953-THE-END