Classroom Poems (Sept 8)

Adaine Regin


The doves of white taunt their tar-covered bother, for he flies slower

But yet to praise the way he still flies with heavy, poisoned wings


“Who were we?”

“I’m unsure.”

“Who are we now?”

“Who knows.”

“What shall we do now?”

“Whatever we wish.”

“Okay, promise you’ll be with me.”

“I promise.”

Two spirits meet, two spirits forget, two spirits live on without a care nor memory, having each other