by Grace Pappadellis ’29 on January 29, 2026
Portfolio - Poetry
The room is similar to that of a cave,
cold and quiet,
but not quite empty,
not quite vacant.
We string up glowing petals above,
the windows stay open,
barely a flash, just constant, waning, natural light.
A blanket of time, hours go by, warm and safe, the ease is innate.
Every item, a friendship crest, the incense holds the memories,
the first time we met, meek and hesitant,
the sun falls and is born again, marking another day of knowing you.
Forever we will live here.
No one can ever live here the same;
this cave holds the remnants of every step, every trace of eager stories,
loud, jubilant, peachy faces, an earnest, mutual bond.
We’ll shut the windows only to prevent the rain from spilling in.