Editor's note: As part of brain injury awareness month, the Harbinger is pleased to offer this poem by an OPHS student. The poem was offered for inclusion provided the author's identity was limited to their initials.
Out of Reach
I stand behind the cold, wet glass
And watch the raindrops fall.
With my finger I like to trace
The rivulets of water that form
As the drops continue on their course.
I am on the inside looking out
On a world that is fresh and green.
Though the window is sealed shut
I can almost hear the birds singing
And the leaves rustling in the wind.
My sigh is deep, my thoughts confused
As I stand trapped behind this keep.
If happiness comes from raindrops then
Content I must be to only trace
Its patterns inside on the cold, cold glass.
C.M.D.