Zac Gunther

The Pond

It has changed so much.
New Cafeteria, new building – red being the dominant colour
The rose carpet is still there, hanging by a thread
Old, almost forgotten memories are once again realized

Of the first to say my name
And of the second that I would meet – both accepting and kind
The pictures of the vacation that haven’t been sent
And of coral polyps that are really animals
But, of course, the one that looks across,
Like the blinding lights of heaven
Is the pond,


Was first realized to me in my first year
Past the new turf, replacing the old, red clay that would carry a baseball
Farther than it should. And the digging hole, the place of
Things that are just too immature for 5th graders
But are the perfect place to bury memories
As many have done before, or so I have been told. Onto the volleyball court,
Where the flag was captured and
Onto the red bridge that still stands in the back- probably needing some repair
Into this swamp, where salamanders are rumored to live,
The woman leads the children.

Down the bridge they go, feeling the sun beat down on their necks
The cattails blow in the breeze
Until you can see the football field, where soccer was played
Down the wooden stairs to the place where the pond is

But no,

Nothing really stays the same
Not when you abandon it
Not when you love it
Not for lack of trying.


Copyright © 2002-2011 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2011 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.