There is not a season enjoyed,
From one's past...
Coming back packaged gift wrapped.

Nor are those times spent,
Mingling with new friends met...
When first attending elementary school,
Returning to enjoy the freedom of recess.

Many are wishing with fingers crossed...
A tomorrow that comes,
Will be sugarized with a sweetened taste...
Freed from the rapid changes.
A reality today presents.

With a hope that this awakens them,
From the experience of what they perceive...
Has been a prolonged nightmare.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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