KIDZ CONNECTION PAGE 30 theconnectionsnj.com I like Winter I like Spring But if I took one out Which season would be a thing? Spring is good but there is rain And in Winter you’ve got a nice sled lane But in Winter it’s super cold And in Spring it’s so bright it looks like gold In Spring the flowers make a show But in Winter you can eat all the snow And in Spring you can ride on bicycles But in Winter you can lick icicles In Spring there are lots of bugs And in Winter you can drink hot chocolate from mugs But which one is better? Which one will stay a thing? Is it Winter or is it Spring? So, for this poem, Winter won! But don’t stop reading, this poem is not done Want to know why Winter won? And want to know why it’s so fun? That’s because in Winter I can ski And that’s why Winter is so fun for me Now that’s it, the poem is done Now go outside and have some fun! Poetry submissions: info@theconnectionsnj.com A Poet’s Playground Celebrating the Creativity and Voices of our Local Young Writers Seasons By Tanush Mukherjee Grade 6-Warren Middle School love the word love. Perhaps I use the word too often. The reality is, I see many shades of love, and I am not referring to the romantic shade. That is fiery red and reserved for my husband, Bruce. Or the rest of my family, who are shades of brilliant fuchsia, and my friends, soft and warm pink. I am referring to those in my life who are too dear to simply say “goodbye” when I hang up the phone. Or those I hug with abandon, so happy to share their orbit. There is an emotion that boils up inside of me, and I want to let people know they are more to me than they may realize. When Bruce and I were young and dating, we waited a long time to acknowledge how much we cared for each other. Eventually, he told me he was “in like” with me, and I confessed the same to him. The transition from like to love was a long time in coming, but I treasured it when it happened. For years, I chose my words carefully when it came to expressing my love. My expression was personal, private, intimate. My daughters never wondered how I felt; they knew every day, as did Bruce. The rest of my family also heard the words at the end of every conversation. They may have thought me effusive, but my guess is they smiled. We were still a bit reserved as a society. I noticed a seismic shift in the way we interacted with each other post 9-11. Perhaps it was the first time that we saw it play out, over and over again. The fragility of life. The inability to hold one’s hand as they suffered. The car left at a train station that would never be driven again by its owner. The pain of reality that people we loved were gone in a haze of destruction was palpable, yet untenable. We couldn’t wrap our minds around the reality that we would never be able to tell those we love that they were loved. Hugging became a part of our interaction, then air and cheek kissing. And then, the words many of us longed to hear from those of importance-we were loved, dearly. Covid and its tentacles reached into our lives. The most harrowing thing was the television count every day, bringing the numbers of deaths into our psyche. We knew that we might experience what so many others had-the last time we spoke with those we adored. We knew we could face excruciating loss and not be able to say, “I love you.” The sudden death of many prayed on us, and out of that came, I believe, the need to not leave unsaid words of devotion to our friends, extended family, and our ever-widening circle. We became accustomed to expressing our feelings, pushing the boundaries by showing affection, adoration, and yes, love for others. We may have forgotten the manner in which we dealt with that type of uncertainty and loss. The need to express to those inside my heart, whether in shades of fiery red, brilliant fuchsia, or soft, warm pink, cannot go unspoken. Three little words that reach from my heart to those I love. SLICEOFLIFE Why I Say I Love You By Ellyn Mantell For years, I chose my words carefully when it came to expressing my love. My expression was personal, private, intimate. My daughters never wondered how I felt; they knew every day, as did Bruce. The rest of my family also heard the words at the end of every conversation. I
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