In a new garden, I have the biggest hands.
Rusted deer will dream, and they will envy it.
Those are my summers.
I’d wanted to be seventeen that month in the garden.
In that garden, branches swing high;
the garden talks and builds with me.
I guess I own this garden.
Some hours in the playground,
it became dirty to me.
What about an unafraid tree? Reckless
used to slide with a fantasy.
Times with my sister used to always fly
We needed to plant more.
Scared about fading on my own,
all I see is a stain while seeing my grandparents climb.
The cherry could believe it had already bloomed.
I begged to ride, and I couldn’t imagine.
Could my apartment see these verses?
Our grandpa wants to see flowers and visit me.
My grandma swears she read the bible:
All house, no garden.
Elisa Min is a seventh-grade student with a passion for poetry. She discovered her love for writing at a young age and enjoys exploring themes of nature, identity, and the human experience through her poetry. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading voraciously or spending time outdoors, drawing inspiration from the world around her. She is excited about the possibility of sharing her work with a wider audience.
Featured image by Neslihan Gunaydin.
