an online journal of student writing
By Brenna Cooper
Like a mixed up bowl of cookie dough,
I donít know what to feel.
Sadness or happiness or maybe both,
I step on the softball fields and think of last year,
That warm, sunny day when everything went so wrong,
The wind blows the dirt across the field,
The clouds cover the sun.
We all stand in silence thinking this canít be real.
Weeping and praying together,
We try to come to terms with her absence.
The game will never be the same for us.