3.19.2013

Sixteenth Spring, 1926

I care a lot for Bill Rush now.
I like him better than anyone else.
We don’t even speak, though.

The same old “gang” is still
going strong, although not quite
so strong as it was a year ago.

When I came back from the vacation
I learned that Bill Rush had gone
to Colorado for his health. Oh!

The third period seems lonely
without Bill.
Floyd, his special pal, looks lonely too.

The season is very late this year.
The blossoms aren’t out on the peach trees,
and the violets haven’t come up.

5 comments:

  1. It's a lonely year when the violets don't come up.
    Beautifully done, Marian.
    K

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  2. thanks! i've been working with a diary of my grandmother's from when she was in high school.

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  3. Oh my gosh. This is no less affecting for being a pretty much universal feeling or experience of that time of life, and it is made terribly poignant by the last section about the season, that it made me want to cry, despite its simplicity, or maybe because of it. I LOVE these.

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    Replies
    1. i'm so glad. i feel the same way about this, about all of them. they are sweet and cute, on one level, universal, for sure. but they make me want to cry.

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