the last day of march

Mud mingling with snow mingling with dirt,

the remnants of red nail polish from 

Valentine's Day,

how has it lasted so long? 

The sun a hot fiery ball over the cloud-speckled horizon,

hurting my eyes, an eclipse on its way. 

My soft blue shirt and favorite leggings, the millions of text messages

I won't notice until hours later.

Long playlists and daydreams about you.

Observation #1:

I don't run like a runner.

I haven't been told how exactly to move my legs,

my arms, to propel me,

haven't been hardwired to win.

Sometimes I wonder if the cars

passing me on the narrow strip of road

wonder if I'm running to something,

or from something,

because I couldn't possibly be doing this for exercise. 

Observation #2:

It's Easter, but it's not even April.

It's far too early for the flowers, the dyed eggs, the chocolate, the plush rabbits.

I don't want this now, this celebration of life and love and spring, when snow still clings to the ground and wind still blows the trees bare of leaves.

I don't want time to fall through my fingers, I don't want days like this to be wasted.

(Is this a wasted day? I don't know.)

Observation #3:

You probably don't know I exist.

although I guess I'm exaggerating, because you do,

you must,

you looked into my eyes just two weeks ago--

and sure, your eyes were distant and unseeing but they were there,

ever so blue and looking into mine, and you said something that I forgot,

because that didn't matter, did it?


Long conversations about how moods change with the seasons.

The colder it is, the sadder I get.

So why can't it feel like spring? I wish for warmth and flowers and a light breeze.

I wish to hear the sound of your laugh at my self-deprecating jokes,

I wish people saw me for who I am.

Am I asking for too much?


Observation #4:

My legs hurt but I never want to stop running.


Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Writing Contest.



14 years old

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