Photo by Izzy Bliss
This time of year I think
about Emily Dickinson.
She is always on my mind
when the flowers beside
my home begin to bloom.
The cherry blossom trees
I pass on the way to the grocery
store remind me of her happiness.
She would love to breathe the air
of this warmness that causes me
complete despair.
I used to like to think Emily
and I were alike but I now
know the stall of the growth
of green makes me feel alive and she
beamed in the glow of the slow rising
of petals and sunshine.
Yet we both bathe in the softness
of our lovers and that is what makes
me remember that pastel yellow of the sun
means my time is coming in just a few months.
It always comes back,
I wish she could too.
Kindergarten 