often including a complementary photograph.
I hope you find a few entries that bring a smile to your face or a long buried memory to the surface of your consciousness. Poetry is like that, whether you are the reader or the author.
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Ah, the springboard of teen years -- when everything is in a state of flux. Too young to understand body changes or thoughts that appear to make little sense. Unable to form intelligible questions, and wondering who to ask even if one could. Like the tangled aerial roots of a banyan tree, there appears to be no rhyme or logical reason to each new experience until, like the roots, they take hold and become solid support for continued growth.