I was made from my grandmother’s

Irish soda bread recipe

The smell of an old library and

A soft quilt.

The orange pink clouds of sunset

And the feeling of running through the sprinkler

on a hot summer day

The sound of crickets chirping

When you’re about to fall asleep

When I was young I pretended to be a fairy

I tried to jump off my bed to feel like

I could fly for just one second and

When I woke up in the morning I would check

My back to see if wings were sprouting out of it

I wanted to become the pages of a book

So I took markers and drew pictures

On my arms and bedroom wall

Today I no longer want to be a book or

an imaginary creature

So I write down my ideas and try

to dream them alive through paper and pen

I run my finger through my dog’s fur

And think about how lucky he is to not have to

Worry about school and friends and driving

In ten years, I want to become a song

I want to become a melody that gets stuck in your head

And you listen to when you have a bad day

The type of song where you can close your eyes

Sway to the beat and forget yourself

I want to become the strings inside a piano

And the beat of a drum

To comfort others and

Empower them

When they need it the most.