John Adams High School - Clipper Yearbook (Ozone Park, NY)

Page 19 text:

4 .g ' To view the coming Spring from on high, I clinihed into my attic one day. And 1'niJ'i11g the 'LL'lll6f01U, what did I .fee B111 it little Jjnirrow awtiitiizg nie. It inzift lnzzfe waited If month at letut ltr hody way Jo cold Premed clofely hy the wiiidow .fill The little ,fpnrrow had died. SOPI-IIE BELIAKO I? We I often thought how fntile life would he, U7hen the one I loved the moft nm' gone from me. UV hen the .found of her .rioeet voice would never rome, To wake me in the morning like the mn. Or cheer my heart, when ,rick with Jorrows ldden. Or lighten with her .fl7'0l1g white handy, my hnrden. O God-I never thought fufonld he like thif, I never thought I'd long I0 for her gentle kim. jnxl' to fee the .vilnen in her lovely hair ' Would help to lift my loneline5.f and deep despair. But life goef on, no tfifions do appear I'nt called iz hermit, people laugh and sneer For only God .iznd I-not another Cnn ez,-'er know how ninth I n1i.f5 my mother. GILBERT LACLAIR

Page 18 text:

74 2aeemSe I long to hear her footsteps pailtling softly o'er the floor, To hear her joyous barking as she greets nze at the floor, To feel her tugging on the leash, to hear her frienclly whine, To eurl up close besiele her, to know that she is nzine. I long to stroke her silken head, to watch her large brown eyes, They were so soft ana' alreanzy, so wistful, yet so wise. I want to brush her wavy coat, to feel hier long sharp claws, To see her stretched before nie with her head between her paws, I want her there to talk to whenever I feel blue, To see her sit up begging the way she used to clo. I always likeal to watch her while she ran through yield anal wood When I spoke shea stop and listen as if she untlerstootl. Anal now, when I eonze horne at night, the house is always still, I think, Perhaps I'll hear her, but I know I never will. The things she haul are useless now, her tlish, her leash, her heel, All I have left are rnenzories-rny clog is aleatl. I f I shoulel speak rny thoughts now, I'rn sure she'tl hear ine say: I wish I hail not been so nzean to her the other elay. I wish I'af been a little kinder as her :lays clrew to an encl, For I've lost more than just a 610g-1,116 lost rny clearest friend. IEAN sTocK12R .lovely .Jada Turning arountl I wateheal her go U7here ll she go? I wantetl to know. She was so .pretty while she stayed She set nzy heart aglow, But look she's gone already Gosh, and I just learneel to lone her so. Now alo not fret, alear child ofrnine, I tell you-she cornes every year. Yes, she'll bring back thie bircls and the flowers, sunshine ant! rain To lighten your heart of it's burclens. Look close before you nziss her For here eornes S ,bring again! SOPHIE BELIAKO Il

Page 20 text:

ROSALIE SHERMAN THE CHURCH was quiet exeept tor the sott strains of a hymn that was being played in the rear. The pews were filled with an assort- ment ot people. Some rich--some poor. Some old-some young. There was the old woman with her white shawl and her worn black coat in con- trast to the attractive lady next to her bedecked in turs and a feathered hat. Throughout the church there was a buzz ot anticipation and excitement that was unusual. All the candles on the altar were lit and there were bouquets oi tloral offerings. Not tar from the church, about ten blocks away, a woman in her late titties hurried out of her house. Her name was Paula Bennett. She hastily looked at her watch and walked briskly to the curb and entered a cream coupe. Her navy suit was ex- pensively tailored with a gray fur piece thrown over one shoulder. Her gray hair was piled high topped by a chic hat and veiling that matched her suit. On the left side of her suit there was a pink corsage of roses. She shut the door of her car, turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb. As she did so, she thought ot the roses and bent her head slightly to inhale their fragrance. She thought to herself: lt was so sweet ot Paul to send the roses. He always knew how much I loved them. At the thought of Paul, her nephew, whom she had adopted when he was three years old after the death of his mother, her eyes misted slightly and she quickly reprimanded herself, l shouldn't feel this way. l'm not losing him, it's just that l'1l miss him. How l wish that Madge were here to see him! Looking ahead to the right she saw that she was approaching the church and slowed down the car. She 16