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Seventeen

was the year I thought I would get most out of life
fall in love in the fall, the colors of the season making everything beautiful in my eyes
winter snowflakes and lights strung up around the city
making plans to move to the big city, where more lights – permanent – would await my arrival
making plans to travel and move away from this place
enjoying spring for the first year of my life, and not even minding the time change.
Seventeen, so sweet, the last year before I left
the first year I would truly taste life;
but seventeen, one year after the next
all these thoughts, hopes got the best of me
I played them over in my head, and liked the way they turned out then
but didn’t try and live them, actually.

Seventeen, I enjoyed your seasons
I enjoyed the spring, walking out to my car with a smile on my face, most days
leaving the lot and just driving, some days
listening to sad songs and living through my writing, my solitude;
Seventeen, you weren’t what I expected, hoped, wanted
but it was my fault
I could have done more
I could have,
but I didn’t

Now, you’ve passed me by
like speeding cars on the freeway,
like the breeze when I’m standing on the edge of the shore
like the feeling of happiness I get when I wake up from a good dream
like the feeling of happiness when I think today might be the day
I get most out of life,
in those autumn leaves,
in those winter lights, city lights
sweet spring, when I catch a glimpse of your eyes again;
This year is more than the one after last,
today is more than yesterday’s tomorrow.



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