Lines This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

By
   Lines

It would be a scent that brings me back to each day the most.
A smell of turkey or chocolate milk.
Glimpses of a child's grin or laugh, and a song of jubilant
celebration.
While, through the air, moisture showers the earth in gentle
sheets,
as we are gathered as one.
Illuminating the night, I light a fire with my torch.
I cry for the one we left outside,
as everyone else ignores it.
And we crusade across the land to celebrate with the ones we
love,
as those had done before us.
We forget the sacrifices they bear
as they take our whipping
and celebrate without us.

by Rebecca Pace,
Kinnelon, NJ


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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