Kentridge High School - Accolade Yearbook (Kent, WA)

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WiufUvQuw Winter has returned ln a moment of fading green, lcy mists of death brush the earth. Grey, dusty streaks cross stormy skies. Chilling winds twirl golden warmth away, And hours silently die - forgotten. Traces of love seem unreal, Lite locks away precious beauty And in our minds we remember the blurs of laughter. We regret lost time, we live apart with our memories, And through the silent darkness of frozen days, We search for the sun - so close in our smiles And so hidden. JoEllen Kruize Suki Cates MEMORIES 107

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Find Find this place in beauty, Find this place in peace. Find it tranquil, find it calm, But find it, at the least. Findthis place in your mind, Find it in your soul. Find it happy, find it sad, But find it as your goal. For trees and birds May fall down and die, And all of the flowers may wilt. All of the wilderness May quiver and cry, And you shall be the reason why. So... Find this place, make it your own, Fill it with others, fill it alone. Fill it with love, and joy, and laughter, For those who love it Are here ever after. Shannon Kleinbeck Suki CHIPS 106 MEMORIES Suki Cates Moiiwv Natww l-ler hair was a waterfall of gold, cascading down soft shoulders. The sunlight reflecting through the shower of silky locks created a wondrous rainbow of assorted colors, l-ler eyes were two black stones resting at the bottom of a clear pond and natural blushing cheeks were a glorious, fiery sunset. Jerry Pa us

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Uselessly I weep for time gone by and wish that I had seen A the countless opportunities now gone to waste in an ocean of emptiness filled with many things yet containing nothing. My days were busy and I did so much I was convinced I was building something of myself and my life. Something well-rounded, since I had to taste every pie that came my way yet never finishing any entirely Tfwwaudnwv or deciding which I liked the best. I poked just enough to break the glassy surface which was so inviting and once disturbed I left it alone to become once again a wanderer searching for what I knew not and filling my own private ocean of futile attempts to crea te a me with an identity all could relate to, but ultimately achieving a single goal of destroying the joy of youth and creating something without any foundation upon which to stand. Now I ask myself 'Who am l?' but I cannot say, for which of the many me 's is the real one that can survive in a world where it 's impossible to exist without an identity as a shelter against becoming a nothing created from too many things and losing myself in the anonymity of my own vast ocean of nothingness Ruth Tressel 108 MEMORIES Tawee McLeod