Ch 11 Poem

The good ol’ days-

hot summer evenings

spent with my best friends

related through blood. 

Too young to focus on the bad, 

too naive to worry about life,

or the imperfections that set us apart. 

The run down shack

and the rickety dock,

our exposed tan lines

and wrinkled skin from dirty lake water. 

It didn’t matter. 

But-

we developed

grew apart

we fought

and everything blew up.