St Genevieve High School - Nanterrian Yearbook (Panorama City, CA)

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h Zim Kicdcll Morgan Wtistling i8 % t ; DRY-EYED WEEPER It seems as though I never cry. I often ask the question, Why? The rotten things I feel inside I can ' t through weeping eyes confide. They ' re never with a tear revealed But often with a smile concealed. While others ' sadness is expressed I frown, but still remain depressed. But finally, when tears stream out, (For every man must cry, no doubt) My tears do not just rain but pour As if they ' ve passed an open door A door which has been locked and sealed, Has kept my feelings well concealed Sometimes I try to learn the cause, I search for habits, rules, or laws Which might reveal the reason why I do, at rare times, start to cry. In trying to solve this mystery I ' ve ruled out death and tragedy. A movie, wake, or long goodbye May make me frown but never cry. Instead, the trigger ' s neat and small It ' s nothing, not a thing at all. -Laurie Monteleone

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4 Creativity j Shown By 4 Students A FADED DREAM The first time I saw you. You were standing by a water fountain. I tried to get your attention but you turned away. The next time I set eyes on you, You were overlooking the beach. I smiled at you but you looked away. I really wanted to talk to you When I saw you at the park But you glanced the other way I cried and cried. . . Until one day you were in a garden- You finally looked at me and smiled. It was the moment I ' d been waiting for, for so long but then I turned. and walked away. -Lisa Guy. ' 82 JUST WATER A Wave. . . Begins as a sea of water, Just water. Gathering strength, it ebbs toward the beach, Still water. Gathering power it pulls itself up to the sky In a crescent. A wave. . . Perfect, unique. It crashes on the earth with a thunderous pound. And returns to its beginning. . . . Just water It rushes back to the sea only to repeat the cycle. It seems to me that we are all Just water. Peaking to waves. Then returning to water again. -Laura Graff ' 82 Barbara Slkment p 150 •v.niivv!ia r : :

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£ V events REMEMBERING The little boy at the shore Builds a sand castle. He spends all day moulding the sandi A wave rolls in He begins again. Moulding and pressing. Time and again. Another wave destroys his new beginnings. The little boy moves to Higher ground. My dreams and emotions are like His sand castles. I work hard to complete them. Only to watch waves d estroy my efforts. I must begin again. But next time. I ' ll wait for low tide. -Diana Nickles. ' 82 We walked together, side by side. Sometimes we laughed; sometimes we cried. You gave me life-, you made me whole. Your tenderness enriched my soul. I thought this would forever be. We ' d be together, you and me. But then you said you had to go. The pain I felt, you ' ll never know! So now you ' re gone, and I am here. I ' m so alone. I ' ve so much fear. I think of you. Do you of me?. . . I long for times that used to be. -Kathleen Todd. ' 81 GREENER GRASS My friend was blue and so was I. We talked and shared the reasons why. Now she spoke first while I sat still And listened to her woes, until The time had come for me to speak But suddenly I felt quite meek. For of the woes I had to share I had not one which could compare. Instead, mine had become quite trite; My life appeared a shade more bright. For once. I knew my grass was green - The greenest I had ever seen! -Laurie Monteleone. ' 82 Christine Mcissner 152 .v.: x ixr.::: :