Newspapers / Saint Mary’s School Student … / May 1, 1993, edition 1 / Page 2
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\ i \ hi ~ ±,- * ■' ^.'; t ■Pm VJ I.?; Page 2 The Belles May 1993 The Dandelion He.once asked me how long forever was, When dandelions quit being blown by children, I answered. He smiled and took my hand and walked with me on the winding path he showed me my life He put a dark veil over his face and on we walked Down the dismal dimly path, he remained unspoken He only pushed me onward, the dandelions were sick In a desperate reaction I kissed each flower and prayed for their survival. Forever was ending. With the slow removal of the veil, the wind changed its course He caressed me with a gentle touch and whispered in my ear Suddenly, the once grim path was bright, the dandelions were dancing I held firmly to his hand, for I was anxious to see what changed my world But he abruptly stopped and pushed me forward With a fearful glance I looked back to see him smiling I kept going until I say you You were standing before me with a dandelion in your hand, which you extended toward me I placed my hand over yours and gently blew it-- and knew my wish had come true- You had become my forever. -Katherine Gregory Baby Shark Grey baby shark, forever encased in formaldehyde Eyes like an old blind man that never sees Little gills that never breathe Miniature fins that never sway with water Sharp teeth that never bite into flesh Skin as smooth as the water it never touches... Baby forever silent. -Lindley D'Alonzo The Lily of May Bows its head, as if it were a sen/ant. It shines like pennies in a wishing well. Its sweet fragrance retrieves memories of running through open fields on a fresh spring morning. It's a reminder of a promise that must be kept. -Elisa Esposito The Panic of an American t Is this really my table! YES YES YES He asked himself, are you sure of your life to come? Making a circle such tenderness. He built himself. Always there was TOMORROW. Light of the fire, he nearly wept. He asked himself. Is this really my table? -Amber Harris • Tissue Flower Author Looking at her is like looking through her Nothing but goodness and sunlight She sits wanting to make a difference, but has nothing some hopeless dreams; maybe; perhaps a garden of her own. The woman takes what the others call trash Creates and shapes the gift of a smile to the child of all ages. She is not the maker of a toy that can break She is the creator of a flower that never dies. -Holly Wilensky Prism 3000 points of light come to a head in one second triggered by movement into light Rainbow glow ROY G. BIV. triangle up, triangle down patterns make us up into a whole we erupt with sun, but willing for moon The difference is in the fact that we can make this decision. -Holly Evans Sioux Father (for my stepsister, Sarah Miia CroW) (thoughts on a beautiful arrow) Black Crow Was this your creation? Did your right red hands put this together? Montana, That's where you met. Was it love or did you just intrigue her? Red Man, with your long black braid... What did you leave her? Your bad habits? The ability to cover your feelings. She's a mirror image of you. But is she really? -Meredith Toomes Silent Stream A small, rocky stream flows through a grove of trees near Bat Cave. Everything is silent. Fresh powder snow like white cotton candy wrapped around mossy rocks, lies there still, as if rooted. Isolated pools of water off the edge of the bank are trapped beneath a layer of ice. Life swarms underneath. From the leaf of a rhododendron, heavy with icicles a drop of melted silence falls into the stream. -Millicent Mooring
Saint Mary’s School Student Newspaper
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