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The Blue Ribbon GirlToday was one of those perfect Oregon days. The sky was blue, not grey, and the clouds were like those found on the drawings of kindergartners; small, fluffy and white. The sprinkling of rain was fresh, a rain that is rarely seen in a city. But Salem is different. The rain is the rain of a country side or a forest. It's light and, sometimes, it's very very sweet. This is the rain of today.
Many other people must have noticed the kind of day it was. The energy of the downtown area was slowed. People paused their day to admire the daffodils and tulips that decorate our city. Windows were rolled down and I never heard the deep, thrumming bass, but saw dogs with their faces out and children sticking their hands out to touch the blue sky. On the sidewalk I heard small children laughing as petals from the cherry blossom trees fell on their noses and in their hair.
And, as I walked and enjoyed my day, I saw across the street, a little girl looking up at a tree in fascination. And what a fasci
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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