Pick up any yearbook
any place
any year.
Turn the pages,
you will recognize them.
That one:
always so friendly.
That one:
forever in trouble.
That one:
so cool.
That one:
Oh! The music!
That one:
skipped more than attended
That one:
kept you up nights,
worried about wise choices
safe places.
Any yearbook,
familiar faces,
each so unique,
every one the same.
It is a paradox
It is.
Shawn, your poem has me wanting to dig around and find one of my high school yearbook from so many, many years ago.
Just go to the library and find your year in their collection. You’ll find the same faces… (It’s so strange).