Courtnee, Age 14, Conception Bay South, NL

I'm standing alone.
It's real chilly out here
On this crisp, late-September evening.
It's so quiet.

I stand outside my house,
A Misfit.
I'm wearing a Leafs' cap, and a football coat,
A sport I don't even like.

My hockey stick's in my hand.
But, I'm not sure what
I'm going to do with it.
I stand and listen.

There is no wind,
No sound.
Nothing but the distant traffic
And a lone dog bark.

It's very dark.
The only light comes
From the street-lamps
And the surrounding house windows.

I lay my stick down
And I sit.
I sit and think.
It's cold out here.

I think about people
And places gone by.
I think about yesterday.
I think of today. Tomorrow.

Then, I stop and listen again.
I shiver.
But, not from the cold.
It's so quiet. It's eerie.

I stare at the sky
And I wonder:
How can it be so silent?
This place is so busy in daylight.

Then, Mom lets the dog out.
My concentration momentarily breaks
As I rub her soft head,

She sits next to me
And looks at me, almost smiling.
Her beautiful, brown eyes twinkle.
She is so important to me.

She wanders around.
I half watch her,
Half stare into nothingness.
It's so peaceful.

I see my brother move
In our window.
A TV flickers
In the neighbors' house.

I wonder why it can't
Be this peaceful, beautiful,
Silent, serene
All day. Every day.

As I gaze into another world,
My mother calls to my dog.
My friend.
My concentration is completely broken.

I come to my senses
And my feet.
I grab my stick and head for
The cheerful light of our house.

It's so cold.

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