Poetry: When the Sun Stops Shining


Sarah Sireci, Arts Contributor

i remember coming here as a kid
and looking at world through rose tinted glasses


but everything is different.
being cooped up and away from the world is not what’s making the blackened tears run down my face.
it’s the road that shares my name
secluded from the rest of town
immersed in trees and the sound of birds chirping
and the painful stab of childhood nostalgia
that makes me want to go back in time
back before the sun set and never rose again.
back to a time when laughter wasn’t an achievement.
back to a time where we ate out of metal boxes.
back to a time where the sun shone brightly every day,
so bright it hurt to keep your eyes open.