2016 -- 8.2 (Spring) Poetry



By: Megan Finsel


­­­­­The rule was

we had to come in when the streetlight

came on, and we would play to the edge

of the light because neither of us were brave

enough to step into the dark.


To this day

the smell of eucalyptus

and bug spray

still takes me there.

To chilly nights by the bonfire,

when we would leave the marshmallows

on the sticks too long, and watch them


To when we could walk down the block to the library


When we classified magic

as falling asleep on the couch, and

waking up in our beds the next morning.


Now when I think back to those times

to the tree house

the pillow fights

movie nights


The memories look antique


But I can still smell the smoke

The bug spray

And I still don’t step outside the light.



Writing is my passion. It’s how I connect with the world, and how I share my thoughts, ideas, and feelings. If you want to truly know me more, you need to read my stories because I put a piece of my heart into each one.