Looking Back

Peacefully, willow leaves continue to fall on a childhood memory. The pizza from that night before is as cold as it has always been. Sitting here, rooms- schools- states later, I begin to wonder. Is that willow tree still there, or has it been cut down? Sitting in my mind all this time, how stale has that pizza become? Despite what it should or would become, it has stayed the same no matter how far I am from it. And that is the same it will always be.


About justsomecollegekid

Specifically anonymous, sorry if that is a bit off, but I do it so that I can get feedback as though my writing were completely removed from myself. As such, I would love to hear your feedback, good or bad. Many Thanks. View all posts by justsomecollegekid

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