Wind and Trees

The wind says 
come. 
Let me brush the leaves off your shoulder 
and have them f l u t t e r in the breeze.  

Let me beautify 
your decay 
and send your colors
spinning 
     
      to

the 
     
      ground. 

 

Geri

MD

17 years old

More by Geri

  • Inevitable

    crying over a simple email 

    the lasts build a lump in my throat 

    last time beaming onstage 

    signing yearbooks 

    wearing a stiff blue skirt 

  • Battle Cries

    One girl’s lanky frame against the dark turf field,

    lit up by fluorescent lights 

    She saunters toward the building 

    holding another girl’s hand

  • Surrender

    The screen stares back at me: 

    9:30 pm, 

    an unfinished assignment, 

    a deadline due. 

    My weary chest heaves a heavy breath.