I wonder if the sun will come to play.
But it never seems to. Every day I shrivel
Weaker, and
W E A K E R, and
W
E
A
K
E
R,
until I can breathe no more.
But then, I see a light come behind the storm clouds, expecting it to be the light that takes me up to my rightful place in heaven.
But no.
After countless days of waiting, suffering, and pain, I endured it all and reaped the benefits.
The sun on my face, once again.
To feel it's warmth nestle me, and the soft cool breeze whisper to me as if to say "It's all going to be alright."
And then I realize, the
S
O
N
never left me in the first place.
--Bryson B., 6th-8th Grade