All Nonfiction
- Bullying
 - Books
 - Academic
 - Author Interviews
 - Celebrity interviews
 - College Articles
 - College Essays
 - Educator of the Year
 - Heroes
 - Interviews
 - Memoir
 - Personal Experience
 - Sports
 - Travel & Culture
 All Opinions
- Bullying
 - Current Events / Politics
 - Discrimination
 - Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
 - Entertainment / Celebrities
 - Environment
 - Love / Relationships
 - Movies / Music / TV
 - Pop Culture / Trends
 - School / College
 - Social Issues / Civics
 - Spirituality / Religion
 - Sports / Hobbies
 All Hot Topics
- Bullying
 - Community Service
 - Environment
 - Health
 - Letters to the Editor
 - Pride & Prejudice
 - What Matters
 - Back
 
Summer Guide
- Program Links
 - Program Reviews
 - Back
 
College Guide
- College Links
 - College Reviews
 - College Essays
 - College Articles
 - Back
 
drifting Alone
I sit on that swing behind the dark tree 
 I stare at the park, at everyone around me 
 I see people walk past me and don’t even turn 
 I swing back and forth as the wind runs through every strand of hair
 Feeling as a bird free to spread my wings and fly
 Imagining as if I’m soaring above looking down at the rest 
 Not a care in the world that fills my head
 
 I look down at the little sand box and see four little girls
 They are building a sand castle with Minnie mouse buckets
 Oh how they remind me of us!
 
 I look at the slides and see four little girls racing down 
 Fighting about who hit the ground first
 Oh how they remind me of us!
 
 I look at the swings and see four little girls holding hands
 Swinging together higher and higher
 Oh how they remind me of us!
 
 Now I look behind the trees and see four young ladies with four young boys
 Playing Truth or Dare, hair tossing and high pitched giggles
 Oh how the remind me us!
 
 
 I look and see four teenage girls having a picnic on the grass
 Gossiping, sharing secrets, laughing so loud
 Oh how they remind me of us!
 
 I drift a little lower, not so high up now, and look at four mothers  
  Playing with their children, so happy together
 Oh how I wish we can be them!
 
 I then turn my head to the benches and see four little old ladies,
 They are feeding the pigeons, yelling at children, as happy as they can be
 Oh how I wish we can be them!
 
 I soar back down to the ground, my feet hitting the wet sand
 I’m back to reality, back to my life 
 Our promises as friends are left in our memories 
 The hands we once held are slowly drifting apart
 The bird is leaving the flock to fly solo again 
 Growing up together was our plan
 Now I’m not so sure 
 I don’t think they even know I’m gone!
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.