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Hold Onto HopeHe held my hand by the ends of my fingers as we ran through the field of barley
With every kiss we communicated unspoken desires and fears
I was alive staring into his green eyes, feeling this uncontrollable energy
Surge from his head to his hands and through my body
Dad said hed never love me, that I was a fool to waste my time with his type
We define riches and wealth in our different ways, money is not a want in my life
Wants me to marry a man with a stiff upper lip manner and a million dollar manor
A man whod treat me with no more respect than he thought a woman would deserve
My boy just wants me to happy, hes my entity and now my identity
He said, Wait for me and pressed his lips on my tear-stained cheek
He drove into the horizon and out of my life, though not forever
As I dry my eyes and remember to write; Ill keep holding on to hope.
Solace in SpringWinter thoughts make the mind despair, nothing is as it was
The dark wearing on the soul, gravity weighing heavily
Clouding over any clarity your fingertips keep hold to
Long, lonely nights, short days of nothing
Hope seems as fragile as the stripped trees
Things that once seemed great are bare
They shall grow and flourish, just not yet.
Yearning for how it once was; previous summers of beauty and joy
Pain makes time seem longer and speech spoken slower.
It is too easy to hibernate inside, shut everything out
Courage lies within going through the motions and staying true
Let the rain wash away the pain, sit quiet and strong against the storm
Creating a braver, wiser person who is more prepared for less fairer days
Take solace in spring; that the sun will shine down again.
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More