by Emily Chamichyan
I remember my skinned knees
with bloody gashes coated in sand,
as I glared up at the blue metal swing
still dangling though I’d fallen,
remember the melting strawberry ice cream
dripping down the sides of the cone,
staining my hands, coating them in sugar syrup
as I ran through the dandelion infested fields
in my overalls and braided crown of daisies.
Feel the ice cold water in my bones
from diving into lakes,
swimming with the fish,
swallowing mouthfulls of
glimmering ripples,
feeling the creek’s gentle caress
against my shivering back
to sinking my teeth into a slice
of pale pink watermelon,
seeds finding their places between my teeth,
as I feel the wind’s kiss against my lips,
find comfort in the long blades of grass,
the ones that tower over me
as I lay in the meadows
welcomed by the bluejays
chirping from their wooden sanctuaries
watching over my golden body
as I hum to their melodies,
glowing as if painted by rays
of the sun’s overpowering embrace
as gold drips from my face
into my hands
forming flickers of orange flames,
sunflowers, or maybe marigolds
speaking to me, calling my name.
Emily Chamichyan is a writer and high school sophomore. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading or daydreaming. She loves burning candles and visiting indie bookstores.
