Some people remind me of paper. Little crumpled up balls of paper, thrown into a trash can and left all alone. You go out of your way to reach in taking out the crinkled sheets of paper, one by one. You take your time to smooth out all the cracks and rough edges. Even though it's not your problem, you still help. You know it's the right thing to do. But when you feel crumpled up and alone, No one bothers to reach for you. No one bothers to unfold you and make you smooth again It's just you, sitting at the bottom of the trash can; forgotten.
Author: Stories by Sara B.
Not just a season
If you ask me, summer isn't just a season. Summer is all my worn out hoodies and cardigans going into the back of the closet, and all my sundresses that make me feel pretty hung where I can see them best Summer is the gentle rays of sunshine, turning my skin into a stunning caramel color that I wish for all winter Summer is car rides with wide open windows and blasting music that makes me feel free Summer is deep conversations under the stars and sipping pina coladas as the setting sun paints a montage in the sky Summer is my untamed hair flying loose in the salt air Summer is the warm sand massaging my feet as I endlessly roam the beach So yeah, summer isn't just a season. Summer is a lifestyle.
Sledding
I walk up to the edge, And peer down at the sight; Cotton candy-like snow That shimmers so bright, The small peppered flakes That fall from the sky, And sugar-white trees That glow in dim light I haul myself up, and onto the sled As thoughts of excitement Rush through my head I take a deep breath, In the fresh, chilly air I push off, I go, As I let my wings spread
Questions
Why do we have dreams?
And why do giraffes have black tounges?
Where is up, where is down?
And how did languages all come from one?
What happens in a black hole?
And how doesn’t the universe end?
Why must people be cruel?
And are parallel worlds true, or pretend?
What would aliens look like?
Why do trees breathe in CO2?
What’s it like in other galaxies?
And why, are there so many questions, that I don’t know the answers to?
Happy World Poetry Day!!!
Some people put their soul into their music,
Others, dance their heart out.
Some pick up their paintbrush,
But there are those who write it all down.
We find words that together,
Flow like the mighty sea.
We find magic in any object,
and then write about thee.
No writers work is alike,
And that, is a big misconception.
Every single poem,
Is like entering a new dimension.
Anyone can write,
No matter how big or how small.
Today, is the day of expressing feelings on paper,
Happy Poetry Day to all!
Fall
Fall - the magical time of year, When the leaves turn red And clouds cry their wet tears. Fall - birds travel for weeks to get to the heat, Seeing them fly over your head, Hearing leaves make a ""crunch" under your feet. Fall - the bridge between summer and snow, On the ground lie leaves that are dead, Oh dearest fall, I will miss you, but now you must go.
Me
As leaves turn yellow,
And the nights get long and cold,
I read and write books,
entering a brand new world.
Where I can just be myself.
Trees
I notice what’s in front of me,
My heart starts pounding, fast at rate
I see, a masterpiece, no single sole can recreate.
If only, year round all would stay,
But winter must be part of fate.
The swirling trees, and flower blossoms, they make me pause, and just to look.
I stop, observe, enjoy, and learn
By sound and smell for I am torn.
Like sparkling jewels, the trees stand tall,
And one big tree, with branch like thorns.
My waves have calmed,
I feel the breeze,
Staring at the spiral trees.
I sit and watch, the flowers shades
Finally, an inner peace.
About
Just a teen putting thoughts on paper 🫶🤭
Stories by Sara 