We loved the delicate pink
our mothers pasted their lips with,
our friendships of love-glazed stickers,
the infinite color the sky painted with.
We loved the sun-kissed sand
that once felt so warm in our hands,
It now seemed dirty.
And the yellow flowers that burst from the fields,
Those floating fairies carried my worries away
Soon we would name them to be weeds.
We were kids.
Always an abundance of emotion,
faith in shooting stars and dancing candle flames,
Our knees and elbows ashy,
hair knotted by the swift fingers of wind and fun.
We felt every hurt, every joy
Every drop of rain, every ray of sunshine
We soon became numb.
We were once kids,
Our shoes now bigger, bodies taller.
Are we not closer to the sky we loved so dearly?
Able to color our own lips
with desires, whispers, laughs,
the bold red of our hearts and that delicate pink.
All of our wishes made on stars and dripping candles,
not wasted, but alive!
—By Wendy Zhao