bitter and sweet
entwined tree roots–
i found withering foliage,
sometimes a pirouette of flowers
and a burrow of my own,
i told Mom i didn’t want to leave
peering from my bedroom window,
windmills in bungalow patios
pivoting in the summery zephyr.
honking cars impatient to reach dead ends–
juxtaposed to my short kiddy legs
strolling while encompassed by skyscrapers,
stopping by to try out samples of
strawberry ice cream.
Weekends, cycling around basketball courts,
sprawled on the tarmac
painted with straight white lines.
long afternoons, alighting from the car,
graduating from car-sickness–
i step into the garage,
the familiar scent of freshly-baked laundry,
following the trail of stained footprints
that formed the pavement of my childhood
the distant medley of juvenile laughter
reverberating through the mail slit on the garage door,
a mosaic of youthful summers studded
with the sequins of freshly-squeezed lemonade,
a patchwork of memories both
Jessica Kim is a high school writer who edits for Polyphony Lit and whose work appears or is forthcoming in Teen Ink, the Daphne Review, and the Heritage Review among others. She enjoys long plane rides and large servings of poetry. Besides writing, she spends time solving math problems with no solutions, watching historical movies, and eating cookies without chocolate chips. You can probably check her out at a library.