The Seasons Live on my Walls & Falling

The Seasons Live on my Walls

The pictures on the wall,

Each a fragment of a memory, a shadow of the world,

Each an image stolen from the park that sits right outside my window,

Moments framed in tangled green leaves, seconds portrayed in bright pastels,

All it takes is the turn of my head to travel

From a balmy summer morning to a frigid winter’s eve,

The seasons live on my walls

My eyes travel in a circle, all around the room,

First they fall on three seals caught frolicking in a pond in the early morning

Much to the amusement of the people frozen watching,

Then with a glance to the left I see a castle,

A mighty fortress topped with a colorful flag waving lazily, bathed in bright light,

Then a quick glimpse of what lies to the right,

Little children guiding boats that race in the wind, oblivious of the cloud darkened sky,

Next to them, a boy in a red and white striped shirt flying a bright yellow kite,

Then with one final turn of my head I see a winter wonderland,

Frost covered trees casting shadows over gleeful children,

Skaters swerving in and out of the dying light of the setting sun,

The seasons live on my walls

And alone, not framed in leaves,

A frightened squirrel perches on a gnarled tree stump,

Hidden whenever the door is open, free to roam when it is closed

It runs across the wall, flitting around the room,

Diving in the water, and swimming with the seals,

Climbing the ivy on the castle walls,

Weaving in between the legs of a boy focused on a yellow kite,

Gingerly climbing up snow laden branches,

Then the door swings open, and the squirrel jumps back to the stump

And the walls are pictures again


I lay in the grass with my head in the clouds.

I watch the leaves swim closer and closer, each

Floating lower, drifting down, drowning in a sea of blue.

                                As I run toward her, my heart beating audibly in my chest,

                            I see she is lying stretched in the grass, her limbs splayed out

                       Around her, she gazes at the sky unaware of my approach.

A single oak leaf glides slowly towards me,

Captivating me completely. Utterly alone, it comes

Nearer, grows larger, all the while dancing through the sky.

                                            The maple leaves dust the sky with their colorful hues,

                                      The large reds fluttering, next their orange counterparts

                                 Asserting their dominance, and brushing off the smaller leaves.

My single leaf becomes lost in a flurry,

Its companions overwhelming it. The maroon

Leaf with undertones of crisp brown coloring is gone.

                                                        My foot crushes a reddish-brown leaf, I pause, hoping not to

                                              alert my ignorant companion of my somewhat stealthy approach. No

                                         Reaction. Another leaf falls to its unfortunate demise, but this time I do not

                                acknowledge it, lest this one crumbles in vain, and end my furtive game.

I feel my self begin to drift off, drift down.

My eyelids falling lower and lower, gliding indolently.

Looking up, everything I can see is getting smaller and smaller…

                                                                       I crash through another collection of leaves, causing a

                                                                 Cacophony of cackling and crumbling, and again my careless

                                                           Footing is almost the reason for the demise of my playful stunt. I am now

                                               In the prime position, it is time to spring.

My eyelids flutter once, then a shadow passes

Over me. I immediately feign sleep, and watching, my eyes

Becoming slits, my head slightly tilted, I become aware of the scene.

                                                                   I stand to the side of her sleeping figure,

                                                         A look of triumph on my face, but suddenly my triumph

                                               Turns to despair as I feel a hand clutch my ankle tightly, and pull.

I heave her down with all my strength.

She tumbles quickly to the ground, then we lie

Next to each other, our shoulders shaking in mirth,

One at a failed attempt, and the other at a silent victory.

Sarah Mele
Age 13, Grade 8
Trinity School
Silver Key

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