Young Writers Society

This is a story,

that doesn’t end.

A road that goes straight,

and just doesn’t bend.

It’s about a girl,

freckled and brown-eyed.

Her dark hair flopping,

in tandem with her stride.

Her mind could travel,

not through teal seas or crimson skies.

But through buried memories,

and shelved goodbyes.

For she had a gift,

that I wish was one of mine.

She could swivel into unknown realms,

through the uncharted waters of time.

It all started when she was lost,

and had just turned fifteen.

Life had shown her an ugly glimpse ,

she didn’t understand what it could mean.

On that foggy night,

while she slept undisturbed.

She went to a place,

where all her questions were answered.

There she could remember,

all that she had ever wanted to.

All the yesterdays that she could relive,

were out before her like shades of a hue.

So she saw what she wanted,

what she wanted to be true.

One by one the years fell into place,

as if they had lined up in a que.

But the longer that she went there,

the longer that she dreamed.

The longer she would remain lost,

and that was what it now seemed.

Because even though she was still travelling,

it wasn’t the same as before.

There was something different,

and so much more.

The warmth of the glow,

had faded away.

Nothing would bring it back,

not even her attempts to pray.

She thought she would be happy,

but she knew she was not.

Just because she had changed yesterday,

did not mean she had forgot.

And for all that she had changed,

all that she had re-written.

She couldn’t stop the others from repeating,

because the others just wouldn’t listen.

It took her all this time,

to understand.

As she now found herself,

in an unfamiliar land.

It wasn’t that she had been too soon,

or that she had been too late.

It was what it is,

and that was the hilarious mockery of fate.

So when the gates began to close,

and shut close they did.

She let them lock away,

just like the farewells she bid.

Now she sits on the rickety armchair,

With her back to her years.

Just like the days that have drifted away,

so have her fears.

And the dark of her hair,

has faded away.

Her eyes are still brown though,

But her head is a pillow of fluffy grey.

So she lifts hers face a bit,

the skin now an aged mask.

Her mind is riddled,

so a question she now asks.

If you could travel in time,

Would you revisit the past?

Or stay in the present,

And try to make it last.