We loved the delicate pink

our mothers pasted their lips with,

our friendships of love-glazed stickers

And sun-kissed sand

that once felt so warm in our hands.

It now seemed dirty.

The yellow flowers that burst from the fields,

Soon we would name them to be weeds.

We were kids.

Always an abundance of emotion,

faith in shooting stars and dancing candle flames,

Our knees and elbows ashy,

hair knotted by the swift fingers of wind and fun.

We soon became numb.

We were once kids,

Our shoes now bigger, bodies taller.

Are we not closer to the sky we loved so dearly?

Able to colour our own lips

with desires, whispers, laughs,

the bold red of our hearts and that delicate pink.

All of our wishes made on stars and dripping candles,

not wasted, but alive!

By Wendy Z.