YWP

Wind

roars through the valley,

the leaves cling to their trees,

holding on for dear life.

But the wind is too strong,

and soon they are lost to the storm.

Rain pelts anything reachable,

Once upon a time, there lived a very ordinary couple. One day, the wife became pregnant with a baby girl. Parents, cousins, and friends gathered and prayed for the girl’s health and happiness. They named her Kalon.

Let me introduce you to my dreams, they said.
A dream I will make come true, it seems.
At eight years old, under twinkling beams,
I dreamt of being a poet, fueled by gleams.

Six apples in front of my eyes

Waiting for their greater purpose

Each painted a deep, glossy red, reminding me of the perfume that sits on my desk

The world is alive, screaming and whispering with color.

Color is subtle, averting appreciation.

Color is outright, a shout against the night.

 Color is everywhere, within us, beside us,

I want to write,

To let my words pour from my fingertips,

To allow my imagination to run free,

To gift my ideas to others,

To simply put pen to paper.