Zemira

Okay. So I asked my sister for three words to write about, and she said "Apples, bananas, and chickens." Well, this is my story about apples, bananas, and chickens.

From what I remember, it was born growing.

It was born hot, expanding, glowing,

and the people were made of gold 

and of fire.

And it kept growing, it kept burning hot, bright,

Dear New York City,

I don’t know what it is

That makes me love it so much

Maybe it’s the buildings

That stretch towards the sky

Forever reaching upwards

Snow is the closest thing Earth has to magic.

Lift your face to the sky

Feel the soft, chilly flakes 

melt on your tongue,

float on your eye lashes,

bring color to your cheeks.