Alone was not my tragedy in July of '98.
Thoughts were free and passions raced 'til skies turned orange and late.
Solo was my much-loved fortune compared to groups and noise.
Journals, gel pens, silent rivers were all my favourite toys.
Solitude was just my thing when days were hot and long. Childish plights, they popped and hovered, cushioned by the wood pigeon's song.
Companionless but not forlorn was strange at 10 to be.
Asleep in tall grass with Goosebumps books was what let me be me.
Travelled light, we did us three. Just me, myself and I.
August, then, I turned eleven hearing September's distant cry.
New school, new faces, new shoes, new me.
Summer practice made it perfect to just let me be me.
About the Creator
Konrad Kramp
I simply love telling stories.
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By Aathavi Thanges6 days ago in Psyche
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