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7 Years

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I haven’t been here in 7 years
But I now sit in this place
where quiet surrounds me
and my homework drowns
me. It is so different
now you would probably get lost.
The aisle lays a different way
with the tables all spread and
those older librarians probably dead.
This place may be foreign now, and boring
to some, but for me it’s a place for mourning
all those times we spent together


with the crisp autumn leaves,
where I believed that I could fly
into that pit that you raked for me.
And then that one time when you
played 60’s greatest hits so I could
learn the words to the Beatles and
Led Zeppelin, but I hated the times
when you threatened to put me in my room
because it was too late for me to be up.
Or that other time at the school dance
second grade, and though you gave it a
chance, it was very obvious you couldn’t
dance and at Disney, when you took me on
the spinning teacup ride and you were able to
find me whenever I wanted to hide in that hotel
room that was so blue, but 7 years later
I have nothing new.


Now I have to stare at this empty library
that may have changed, but at least it
didn’t exchange the books to care for
and be there for in order for its needs
to be fulfilled by a bottle and it
never killed the self-esteem that used
to beam off of the lost book who still
hangs in a nook that may forever be locked.

The leaves don’t fall the same
way as they used to and I can no longer play
the same music that still weighs over me.
I can no longer nestle on your shoulders,
for I am now older and I do not spend
Time on those who lie
in the ground beneath
and watches hope die
because of the voices that told
you the wrong voices.




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