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A poem written by my sister for a dear childhood friend. |
In Memory of Sherry Mahan I still see her clearly-- the new girl at school. Breezing through each day, she was genuinely cool. I envied and disliked her, but still knew in my heart she was a true princess, though she didn’t flaunt the part. While I wore plain homemade dresses, she wore beautiful clothes every day. As I listened from afar, she spoke of parents doting on her in every way. So I kept my distance still, though she was a generous lass. She often brought homemade snacks to share with the whole class. One day she pulled me aside and convinced me to be her friend. The clothes we wore didn’t matter. We were just two girls in the end. She'd ridden horses in rodeos since she was only three. She’d won trophies and ribbons, and was as smart as could be! Out on spring break, she was riding in a show, where she felt more at home than anywhere she could go. But something went terribly wrong on that fateful spring day in '67. The Princess was now dead, and the angels took her to Heaven. I still see her clearly-- the new girl at school. Breezing through each day, she was genuinely cool. written by my sister, Peggy Hodge |