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Oct 2010
Every tread was filled with dread,
marching through march alone,
desperate to get it over with,
unable to get you on the phone
always heading for a street called summer.

Crowds envelop,
a thicket of people,
arms like branches reaching out greedily,
like barren trees in winter.

A forest of faces,
I searched for yours.

I only feel now,
You will return.

I imagine you with elephants in the jungle,

The teacher told you to stop pretending to be an elephant,
the other kids thought you too loud, too enthusiastic,
unhindered perhaps you could’ve been one by now.

Everything’s taking from us, giving to us,
I can only breathe.
Written by
Charise Clarke
597
 
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