Gawd, what is it with teenagers and bad poetry?
I'm desperately trying to clean out my “desk”, which includes boxes of CRAP scattered throughout the house. So now I just ran across a folder from high school, that most likely came from my mom's stuff when she died. Oh yeah, I've still got a bunch of that crap to go through too.
Is there any cure for being a packrat?
The last time I saw you
You looked so proud
Standing there, in your cap and gown.
Surrounded by family and friends,
You smiled at me,
Then moved on.
I was so proud of you
Ready at last to face the world
Going on to college and a career.
I'm left behind, and I'll miss you.
But next year, it will be me —
Standing there, in my cap and gown.
I was watching you today.
The way you move, the way you speak.
Your mannerisms, the way your eyes
Crinkle up when you laugh.
Look at me, my friend.
Look at me, and smile at me
With that special smile
That makes me melt inside.
Look at me, my friend.
Look at me, and touch my hand
With that special touch
That makes me feel so shivery inside.
Look at me, my friend.
Look at me, and laugh with me
With that special laugh
That makes me feel so happy inside.
Look at me, my friend.
Look at me, and see how much I care.
Look at me, and see how nothing else
Matters to me
When you come into the room.
You're gone now, and I
May never see you again.
I feel so lonely, and so alone,
Just thinking of you.
A cold, still night
The yearning cry of the wild goose
Echoes through my soul.
The shimmering lake
Deep beneath a mountain stream
Reflects the vastness of the heavens.
Yeesh.