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Wildflowers in Her Hair Aster Art By Emily Chen  She was a dancer, performing on stages big and small
Her arms poised and legs quick Her hair Neat Taut Her face Still Cold She practiced day and night Feet moving back and forth on the edge One day she falls She crawls out with the new spring Inching far, far away A field she passes through Sweet breezes brushing along Blanketed in a lush green Flowers sprouting here and there Tiny, yet extravagant She idles around A sigh of relief she lets go at last Time doesn’t stop for her When she blinks Her mind is anew She returns to the stage Eyes no lighter than the tropical sea Smile dazzling Moving with grace, passion, delight And wildflowers entwined amongst her hair
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Aster Art by Lea Shvarts She blew the piece of grass in her fingers, the textured tip swaying unsightly in her fingers. “What do you think we will be after school?” He furrows his brows. “After high school or college?” They were only seniors in high school. They hadn’t even set foot into adulthood yet. “Both—I mean when we’re real adults.” “Are college students not real adults?” She throws the strand of grass away and turns away from him. “You know what I mean.” He does and thinks for a while. Her brown irises were back and peering over him with a curiosity he couldn’t figure out. It was unsettling but he found his words. “Maybe a manager in some company, probably an office worker. You?” She takes a breath. She must’ve been contemplating it before asking him. “A chemist or a geneticist but I want to have some free time for my hobbies. Nothing time consuming, that's all. More time for writing would be nice, but I am interested in the science field.” He doesn’t pry and listens to her science rant. He didn’t need to confuse her further. Ember Aster Art by Hiruni Kumari  He didn’t fit
The wrong piece of a puzzle Eyes were molten unlike the others Heart aflame unlike the others He cared too much and hated too little He should be far away Maybe in a nice town with nicer people A warm house and family Better than these smoky eyes Better than this burning stench Better than bloodstained fingers |
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