The bones that hold us together

Wooden beams hold your secrets etched into their archaic bones the story of the past 

when you didn’t creak 

and only smiled 

through your uneven boards 

Those were the days 

when your panels 

made up our childhood 

but now the planks are packed the treehouse gone 

and your dust gathers 

Your strength is replaced with old age and squeaks of fatigue your beautiful oak wood 

no longer has the same vigor to hold up our youth 

like it had decades ago 

You sit forgotten among 

boxes and broken things 

waiting to build the next dream only to waste away 

in a couple years 

as you had before…

About the Author

Ali Whitlock is a first-year student studying Creative Writing here at Arcadia. She loves the freedom of writing and enjoys creating immersive stories that inspire others. She is currently working on a novel, various poems, and a few short stories. Some of her other hobbies include photography, listening to music, reading, visiting the aquarium, exploring nature, and hanging out with family and friends.