April 29, 2008
By Breanna Casey, Clark, NJ


Out my window..
I see the grayness of the rain
pounding mercilessly-
and torturing my defenseless roof.
Each droplet lasts for only moments
in the unforgiving atmosphere.
I wonder if they even had a chance
to ever have a purpose.
As I watch them
fly down to me
they burst into nothing..
only to form
what once was.
I think it was you,
Sending me a reminder
in a pure, simple,
liquid form.


Even without the rain
you had dropped from the sky,
I would have remembered.
My car door slams,
and some of that
sacred water
jumps onto the top of my foot.
It tries to stay with me,
evaporate into me..
But before it can think,
it rolls off
to become nothing
to the ground
it will lie upon,


The flowers I bought you
were blue.
They lacked vibrance;
I didn’t think color would be fair.
They were blue though..
You’re favorite.
The color of the ocean,
the Yankee’s-
the cold blood
that ceases to move
throughout your body.

I finally arrive to where
I never wanted to be.


I was always
an inch or two
taller than you.
But now,
as I kneel beside you,
you rest above me.
Your eyes are closed
I wish they would open,
and you would be yourself again
just like in my dreams..
and you would promise me you would stay.

But of course, they do not.
I use all of my strength
to place what was yours
into the wooden box
that unrightfully
took you
from me.
A bottle half full
of tropical sand,
and a Yankee’s hat
will sleep with you always..
joined by the pleading tear
that rolls off
The milky white smoothness
of your forever-folded hands.

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