I wrote a poem this weekend, because I miss the seasons back home. And they told me to.
Yo soy de
Wagonrides in Autumn, tussling with friends amidst sweets smelling hay, then running, frantically screaming, though a corn maze--earning our hot cider.
Yo soy de
Long days at school,
tramping home through the snow and darkness
hot cocoa and hot dinner with friends and family
blankies and cuddles keeping the cold at bay
Yo soy de
The twitterpating brilliance of new green leaves, signaling sugaring time and making up for
mud up to my ankles
Yo soy de
splashing in the lake,
parties after dark,
bonfires, sleepovers, picnics
tea parties, movies,
adventures, long walks in the park.
Yo soy de Chum room 309, UWC-USA
I come from that past,
live for this present,
shape a maleable future.
Wagonrides in Autumn, tussling with friends amidst sweets smelling hay, then running, frantically screaming, though a corn maze--earning our hot cider.
Yo soy de
Long days at school,
tramping home through the snow and darkness
hot cocoa and hot dinner with friends and family
blankies and cuddles keeping the cold at bay
Yo soy de
The twitterpating brilliance of new green leaves, signaling sugaring time and making up for
mud up to my ankles
Yo soy de
splashing in the lake,
parties after dark,
bonfires, sleepovers, picnics
tea parties, movies,
adventures, long walks in the park.
Yo soy de Chum room 309, UWC-USA
I come from that past,
live for this present,
shape a maleable future.