Harsh Reality
Memories deep as winter snow,
buried in the ground below,
frozen there until the thaw,
if springtime ever comes at all.
Memories of sun-bleached sand,
childhood skin so darkly tanned,
crashing waves upon the shore,
times like these exist no more.
Velvet wings of butterflies,
wounded by their quick demise,
lessons hand in hand with pain,
childhood's gone, yet I remain.
©Danielle White
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