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The Giver
April 18, 2012
As I ride down the hill on the sled,
I feel the warmth of the town,
I feel that nothing is real,
I remember my father,
My mother,
My sister,
The Giver,
I remember those days being the elders puppet,
Not able to see color,
not feeling love or hate,
(Insert nose here)
My mind returns to the swirling wind and snow around me,
warmth of the town comes closer,
The town reminds me of Christmas,
I remember one last memory,
Starts to fade away,
everything slips,
into darkness....
© Mike A., Newark, DE
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