YWP

My childhood home is filled with plants,

plants that we never water

but are somehow still alive.

Its island is littered with junk mail,

different types of olive oil,

stray flakes of salt,

In most stories, there’s only two sides.

Though, that is not the case here.

Four sisters, rule the land side by side.

The eldest, Winter, rules with a heart of ice.

As her little sister, Spring creates a sea,

Never forget this moment my child, the moment you began to feel,  

The moment you first felt alive. 

It was night, 

In a world where every digital breakthrough to age-old traditions stood as symbols of our progression, it wasn’t the advancements themselves that captivated us, but the revolution of our words.