(Journal entry, written sophomore year 2005, I was 15.
The longing of a child from a broken home, wishing to go back in time.)
I want to go back…
Where the nightly breezes drift from afar,
and the stars are the only light in the dark.
Where few patches of grass grow through,
in a world of color, both yellow and blue.
Where the waves collide and jelly fish sting,
the time I remember calling you ‘mean’.
Where you yelled at me if I went in too deep,
or when I kicked sand at you with my feet.
Where you held my hands and jumped the waves;
where we found that sand dollar that we had saved.
The place where most memories were made before the wave of sad,
I want to go back, but this time with Dad.
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