Look at us run,
carefree ‘til our bony legs give out from under us or until mother’s gentle plea.
Boundless green hills and mountains may cover up the now sanguine sun.
But still, we charge. Onwards and upwards, until we cannot see.
Look at us laugh,
at a kitchen table whose structural integrity leaves much to be desired.
Where we knock our legs against these wooden pegs so much that I bloody my calves.
But still, we howl like souls possessed until our jokes become too uninspired.
Look at us sleep,
packed in so close that we can hear each other’s thoughts,
we huddle together to avoid the mosquitoes and pray for the day we’ll make those things weep.
Still, we just chat, and until the light comes, we’ll dream about what we are not.
Look at us fight,
over something I was right about, I’m sure.
The Earl Gray that I sip betrays what I’m feeling inside: a breezy January night.
But until we grow up and we are strangers once more, we’ll scowl and never mature.
When we are strangers,
I’ll run from the monsters under my bed.
And I’ll laugh ‘til ketchup spills right down my hemic leg.
I’ll sleep without dreams
and I’ll fight ‘til my plight is one I can no longer see.
But until then, I’ll wait.
Jinoo Kim is 17 years old; he lives in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Jinoo loves reading books about history and is a New York Yankees fan.
image:Jill Wellington on Pexels