A shoe box fit all memorabilia of high school days.
Rummaged through the contents before throwing it all away.
Under faded photos lay some poems I had written for school.
Marveled at my pre-Parky penmanship; worth saving for that alone.
Large, fluid strokes, legible to most.
Handwriting in script is an art almost lost.
Perused the poems to critique content, now that I’m a published Parky poet.
They were crafted to please the teacher and follow the rules.
Written prior to finding my own quirky Parky poetic voice.
Wrote about beaches in a positively vapid way.
Over 15 years of living with PD, writing poetry is by choice.
Now, when I think of beaches, climate change and pollution come to mind.
Kept the box to show my adult children I was a teenager once upon a time.
Beautiful hand writing. When movement was fluid and effortless.
I can't imagine why I saved them.
Such a lovely thing to find. And two poems for the price of one
I hope you really did find that box Alice. This is a lovely poem.