Garden of Reminiscence

By Lauren Cucciaro

Things come and go, Faster than anyone could hope. A blink turns into a year And everything you know, rusts Now placed into the garden of our past. Which holds memories and people, Some flourishing and others withering, But all were once our reality, Our present.

So whether good or bad, Thank it for what was given And as life goes on, The garden continues to grow. Every so often we visit, But this place is not made for living in So do not carry the stones outside. They will only be dead weight. For every flower and tree sits still, Just how you left it.

Prey

By Ariana Jerelds

I wonder if anytime after you decided to pluck my petals, and grind them into incense that smelled of immorality and pain,

That you’d felt guilty for your harvest.

Or maybe your actions are a distant memory, long forgotten in the trials of time, like that of my childhood.