An assignment from school. Poems for school never seem to turn out as good as ones I  make for myself. Either way here it is the story of my childhood through a poem. :) 

Enjoy.

There was a child went forth every day,

The intro to her story was short and sweet,

She was born in the rising of the day,

Grasping with her small sausage like fingers the life that was now hers to hold,

Unimaginable opportunities would soon come her way,

Each carving her personality into the unique creation it would become.

White trim outlined the grey siding of the first place she would call home,

The light of the quaint eggshell white bedroom was provided from a window

Facing her prized swing set,

At night it would be lit by a Winnie The Pooh night switch,

A possession she would refuse to be detached from

Youngest of a family of five by six years,

She learned to be weary of her sibling’s good hearted jests,

Receiving coal from “Santa”,

Her first memories of Christmas,

Shattered by her mischievous older brother,

Pennies of gold thrown her way,

If willing to leave her sister alone for an hour,

Quarreling for whom to care for her,

Thrown in the middle, a neutral party,

Escalading until it was no longer playful,

Apologizes were given to the child in the middle,

Hand written sincerity,

Siblings do care.

Irrational fears lingered around her,

Kneading her into a stronger person,

Every rumble of thunder in the distance,

And every shadow in the corner of her small grey blue eyes,

And the faint creek of an old floorboard,

And an elderly ghost that lived in her grandmother’s house,

And the old doll with the receding blond hairline,

The lights would stay on to protect her,

And the closet doors shut tighter then sailors knot keeping the monsters at bay

Her story continued to grow as did her hair,

“No!” the girl would scream in agony,

The hard hit clomps of her ham like feet hitting the floor as she ran,

Tears streaming down her cherry red cheeks,

The snarls in her hair growing into even more real birds’ nests by the minute,

Hair was always a burden for the girl,

Beauty was not a necessity,

Comfort was a must

Two playful gingers appear next door,

Shy at first, soon warming up to one another,

Adventures of The Highland Chicks soon came into view,

Bailey the drummer, Kelsey the guitarist, and Morgan the singer,

Touring the boulevard until dusk,

Too soon the band was split,

Two of the three members sent on their way to Milwaukee Wisconsin,

Devastated,

Only to be reunited with the girl once a year.

Light grey circles outlined the shape of his soft worn out brown eyes,

His glossy coat caressed the little girls hand as she held on tight,

Drops of tears faded into his fur,

He whimpered goodnight as his eyes closed,

The little girls and her family’s bodies surrounded his,

A subtle sound of whimpering filled the air,

This time it was not the dog,

But the girl and her family saying their final goodbye,

To a lifelong friend of the little girls and a cherished pet,

Who would not be forgotten easily,

And whose rusted silver chained collar reading “Jake” would keep the little girl company

For many future lonely nights

Her rapidly growing feet,

Sinking deep into the forest green murk of Two Sisters Lake,

Stirring up chaotic swirls of dirt and rocks within the water

No longer being able to see what lay beneath her

That was the thrill of the Northwood’s

Unable to sense what unexpected adventure would occur next,                                                                                                             

A constant carefree environment,

Filled with memories the bustling city of Wausau could have never given her

Her freckled splattered nose turned upward

Wafts of smells coming from all direction,

Leading her to the freshly baked cookies promptly waiting for her arrival on the sand colored            

marble top,

An older petite woman awaited her behind them,

“Grandma Sweeney!” the little girl squealed,

Pulling her Grandma in for the exact definition of a bear hug,

With the middle name Hessling,

She would always be connected to her,

Born with apart of her Grandma none of her other cousins had,

Words endlessly fluttered,

Afternoons spent teaching the importance of family,

Remembering those who are no longer with us,

Every “choo choo” from a train in the distance was a hello from her Great Uncle,

Knowing every member in old family portraits,

Amercing the girl with wisdom of past experiences,

Learning traditions,

Setting up each holiday’s decorations,

From Easter eggs,

To Christmas lights,

Cherishing every moment spent with one another,

However, this little girl grew older,

As all little girls do,

Outgrowing the afternoons of chatter,

Never forgetting them,

For her grandmother taught her well,

Family means everything,

Especially the ones who are truly always there,

And always will be.

Change soon made its way into the child’s story,

A house, once filled with obnoxious adolescents,

            Was now left to just her,

Two siblings away at college the child’s home now eerily quiet,

Horribly, awfully, terribly, quiet,

Late night crying, she could not take the silence of the room next door,

Taylor’s room,

Age 12, sleeping in her parents bed, comfort of not being completely alone,

Years go by it began to get easier,

Overjoyed still when her siblings return,

Knowing they are still here,

Never truly leaving her,

For she is not an only child,

But a proud youngest of three.

Laughter filled the crisp air of the Porcupine Mountains,

Waves crashing Lake Superior’s shore in the distance,

Yellow cake’s sweet aroma mixed in with the smell of pine,

The girl pausing for a moment, taking everything in,

Imprinting every last detail into her memory,

Never having experienced a moment of pure bliss,

But the one that lay before her now,

Learning the lesson that simple things in life,

Mean the most.

Awaking from a seven hour plane the girl was exhaustedly overwhelmed with anticipation,

The moment she had prepared for, over six months of waiting, had finally came,

Amsterdam, Belgium, France, London, Wales, and Ireland,

All within her reach,

Amsterdam, crowded bike lanes, fears of getting hit by bikes not cars, astonishingly bendable laws

Belgium, decadent sweets luring her in, her waist line growing by the second

France, the girl’s dream of seeing Notre Dame were realized, becoming speechless at its

architectural beauty towering above her,

London, rainy days adding to the depressing atmosphere of the dark history of the city,

Wales, deep grey clouds, sun bursting through, reflecting of the purple mountains that surrounded the land,

Ireland, deep rolling hills, split by clear ice blue water, pure unimaginable Irish bliss,

Tours of churches, chocolates, and cheers summed up the journey,

Individual, unique, friendships made it all the better,

The climax to the girl’s story,

Where her independence, individuality, and love for adventure truly began.

The climax to a life of adventure never seems to fall for the girl,

The conclusion to her story, more so a marking of her life thus far,

The life the girl has already lived, a glance into what is next,

Unknown wonders yet to be seen, unfelt feelings waiting to be felt, unheard stories yearning to

be told

For the child has went forth, and will continue to go forth, taking advantage of the life that awaits her, until every sight has been seen, every feeling felt, and every story told.

I love my sister and miss her. Growing up has made us closer and appreciate our childhoods memories together, but now that we are finally close our lives are setting us off in different directions. Shes gone for most of the year for college but when shes home i can tell her everything. I love my big sister.