Adriana, 15, Fertile, MN
Clear pictures of faded memories,
Images of the past becoming clearer,
Happy to sad, angry to confused,
Life is too complicated to read,
Kind of like a flower from a seed
To a rose to a weed,
Then from the weed, death,
But what's in between?
How do we get from the seed to the weed,
And how can anyone make the answer clear?
When you think of it,
Life is a picture when we are living,
Then we die, and after a person's death,
They become the faded memories.
Complicated yet simple,
Confusing yet pure,
Is this making anything any clearer?
As clear as the pictures, yet,
As faded as the memories they hold.