dragonflies MAG

June 1, 2009
By Fatima Mirza BRONZE, Fremont, California
Fatima Mirza BRONZE, Fremont, California
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

before i even open my eyelids,
I know you will be gone.
And the dragonflies that danced
in the mist of the sprinklers
will be gone too.

I wont smell summer anymore-
But the cold frost of winter
That will form icicles in my hollow bones.
Seasons later, I will still be recovering from this one.

July brought laughter,
August whispers of anticipation and fear
An entire symphony constructed with heartbeats
I hastily scrambled to catch the seconds
Slipping through my fingers, and out of my mind

And then sunlight hit your face
But thank god, moonlight concealed mine
I swear time froze
And everything, from the smell, to the look in your eyes
Hung around me for hours afterwards

September split history
And every event or recollection that follows
Will be defined as “before” and “after”
A sign, I'm sure, that parts of me are trapped in times past.

I trace my path along the red veins
The black canvas in my eyes
That faithfully paints my memories
In acrylic paint; violent red, deep brown

Replaying what I want seen
Just once more
Before I bring myself to awaken
And loose them, the whispered secrets, and acrylic paintings
All over again



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