Memories

• Darcy Webster-jones, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2014

I stepped outside my old, battered house and gazed at the mesmorising patterns of the starry night sky.

Sometimes I think of the painful memories of the past and cry. But I know that I cannot cry forevermore for the future is upon us and I know that is it is travelling at a great speed.

So I turn away from the dazing night sky and open the door to the future.