Sydne Morris (May 23 1991)

My friend Kessa’ and I
Always loved writing
Poetry was our favorite
Everyday on the old yellow school bus
Number 6 or 149
She and I would read to each other
What we had come up with
The night before

I was always a little
Green with envy
Because her writing seemed much
More mature than mine

But one day we realized
That poetry was dying
Even though so many people
Write it all over the world
Poetry has lost it’s fame

Kessa had started a poetry club
But no one showed except me
We wondered why that was
For poetry was a wonderful
Thing
A great outlet
When things went wrong
Which they always did

To me it has become the dying race
Hanging on a thin thread
Of life
What miracle will happen to keep it float
Who will make difference
To relight poetry
In everyone’s mind?