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  • Writer's pictureLeann Shamash


Childhood drips like molasses

Long summer afternoons ripple

One event pushes the next and all ripple outward

Concentric circles of dirt, skinned knees

and wiffle balls bouncing on the hot asphalt.

Clocks tick but alarms don’t chime.

Childhood lasts forever, doesn’t it?

We are teenagers between tears

Each day a Shakespearean drama unfolds inside of us

We share it with our theatrical voices,

our swords drawn to those who oppose us.

Do not mess with me!

My Juliette to your Romeo.

And the drama continues.

Adulthood is like skipping stones on a turbulent river

We jump, one slippery rock to the next.

Trying to be just one step ahead

but always ready to fall in.

Our ankles scraped, our toes wet, but unhindered,

we jump to the next slippery stone.

Someone is on the riverbanks cheering us on

but it’s hard to hear them through the sound of the wind.

Old age is like a waterfall.

All the water that has pooled begins to fall.

The water roars as you fall downwards into the rapids.

A little broken and very wet,

You navigate the choppy waters and

look to the placid lake at the end of the rapids.

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