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| +Title: None +Topic: The Slipping Girl +Special Notes: None When I was young, I had a friend, who took me from depressions bend. She'd tell me where to leave my fears and showed me hope for all of 3 years. Her name was Jaycelyn, Id call her Lyn. She'd call me Moana for my blueness within. We'd leave our troubles, to fester alone, while we'd venture out into the great unknown. Lyn with her unsettled soul, would hold my hand wherever we'd go. She'd pull me to the end of the world, where we'd watch our innocence unfurl. We'd walk the streets from night til dawn, til the bottoms of our heels were worn. Then under palm trees and atop the sands, we'd watch the sunset holding hands. Our fondness for music, took us far. I learned to play the piano and some guitar. Lyn, my maestro, would conduct our tune, as we'd try to be music, a song for our moon. We'd even lay with instruments on the stage, where drummers, guitarist, and singers raged. The band would play us till they slept, and beneath our song, there we wept. Lyn with hair of orange hue, clinged to me when our time was through. I told her all would be okay, that we'll be together some other day. Lyn had died on a dreary saturday. She had overdosed while I was away. My memory of those joyful years, must always end with heavy tears. Lyn the adventurer when I was sheltered, had gone before me and left me shattered. I'll never forget her, my childhood friend. In death, may we meet again. |
