Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Gift

A book you gave me, that one year for Halloween.
You pressed it into my hands before we played “Catch the Apple”.
It was wrapped in orange wrapping paper
You were six and I was seven.

Later, going home with a bag full of candy,
I remember, and open it.
It’s full of childish drawings you made, scribbles, really.
When we get home, I put it in my closet, and soon forget.

Four years later, I am digging through my messy closet
Trying to find some trinket I need.
I find that scribbled, childish booklet.
And think of you.

For we have now gone our separate ways
Our friendship has all but fallen apart.
And yet, sitting on the floor with that book in my hands,
I remember
That I never said
“Thank you”.



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