Our Friendship

The two of us share a bond so strong
Even though we haven't known each other long

Can we keep it this way
Will you not be there for me one day

Nothing so far has kept us apart
Even from the very start

Here we stand
Hand in hand

Not knowing what the future will hold
Our friendship is precious gold

If you were not there for me
Who knows where I'd be

So this poem is for you
For always being loyal and true

I Used to Know You

I used to know you
We stuck together like glue

What made us lose touch
Our friendship used to mean so much

I used to call you friend
What caused our closeness to end

What happened to our solid trust
Why has it turned to rust

Must our hearts hurt
Must we treat each other like dirt

I guess it was time to part ways
After all of those good days

Written by Alyssa M (Peach Heaven)

A Peach, a clown's nose, a blazing sun
With all this goodness, you will have fun

The juicy center, tangy yet sweet
It sends a shiver from your head to your feet

Slurp. Crunch. Crunch. Chew. Swallow.
These reverberations prove it not hollow

You'll fall in love as soon as you bite
The aroma is so mighty you'll have to hang on tight

Tough skin, juicy core
Such a sensation you'll want some more

And in your final memories of heaven
Your mouth will feel refreshed times seven

You need not to eat it fast
You need a way to make it last

If you're an amature, don't be shy
Take my word and let your taste buds fly

Peachy Keen

Many shades of color: Orange, ruby, yellow
Peach, you are anything but mellow

Skin smooth as a wizened piece of leather
You have aged through many types of weather

I long to take a bite
Yet I can't hold myself back, try as I might

Your wonderful aroma comes to my nose
Your speckled skin glows

So I finally begin to eat
My tasty, peachy treat

Today

Today I am going to do it right
Spread my wings and take flight

I'm gonna soar above the sky
And show everyone how I fly

Nothing is in my way
No matter what you might say

Without a single care
I'm taking on a looming dare

You can doubt or you can dream
No matter how big it might seem

I'm aiming for the stars
Unlocking these opressing bars

I am going to take control
And achieve my goal

Regression of Medicine

I pushed open the heavy hospital door, welcoming the shade, but not welcoming the stench. The odor of lost hope, of heartache and death; the smell that sucks life out of the already drained permeated the stale air.

"How you folks doin' today?" The receptionist asked, handing us a map of the hospital along with face masks to cover our noses and mouths, and gloves. "Wash your hands after leaving the infected vicinity, and dispose of your masks and gloves in the appropriate waste bins." She told us, pushing the hair out of her eyes and adjusting her own mask.

My parents and I stepped down the hall to a section with terminally ill patients. My sister would have come, but no children under the age of twelve could enter the hospital. It was just too risky.

Not anxious to see the state my grandfather was in, or what state his room was in, I heaved a sigh before going down the "Corridor of Death" as it is called. All of the men and women that the doctors could not find herbal remedies for sent for them to be placed in this ward.

I gulped down my nausea, fighting the urge to vomit as I entered the room. On make-shift beds the sick lay moaning, calling for death, Mother, and water. My mother slid across the floor, shoving aside the trampled "Get Well" card that had nearly caused her to fall in the muck. I then noticed all of the cards on the ground. It was obvious that none of these adults cared about well-wishing relatives; they only cared about the never-ending pain.

When we came to the bed my grandfather was occupying, I gasped. He was spread-eagled across the woolen blankets, clutching the edges of the bed. His eyes were bloodshot and wide. His breath came and went in shallow, rattling puffs.

I was, in the least to say, horrified.
Here was my grandfather, the man that was continually there if my parents were not; and I was watching him die. I was watching a hopeless case of torment that would eventually end in death. A swell of anger rose up in me. Why couldn't these doctors find a cure? Was it not their job? With all of the herbs out there, surely there would be one flower to heal any disease?

If this was what it was like to die, then I didn't want to.
I wanted to be happy in my final days, not groaning in misery among a hundred other filthy, dying souls. I shuddered with the reality of it, and wondered, "What if there was something that could cure you and end your last days in peace?"

I laughed at my stupidity as I trudged back down the "Corridor of Death".

A Magical Dance

Skirts swirl
Feet twirl

All prance
soaking up the magical dance

So dances the crowd
as if it were atop a cloud

Ladies dressed in fanciful gowns
With feathers, shoes, and crowns

Gentlemen's shirts are a river of lace
Being magnificent dancers, they have extreme grace

The marble floors gleam
The champagne runs in a bubbly stream

The dancers will not stop
They will sway and spin until they drop

As rare as these nights are
Many people come from afar

All gasp as the crowd begins to part
The music ends, and does not restart

Enters the prince and a girl
She is finer than a pearl

She is a woman clothed in tangerine
A more elegant outfit is not to be seen

They are dancing at the head of the throng
It seems as if this night will always go on

Now music flows
Even as the night slows

It seems like they are not real
Like they cannot see, touch or feel

Soon the prince and his girl are gone
Now it is almost dawn

People begin to drift away
waiting to dance another day