Changes

By Bella Brosnan

The warmth is golden 

It is vibrant 

It flows endlessly around me

It kisses me 

The waves lap at the sand 

My skin salty and my lips the color of strawberries 

I tip my head back 

The smells of promise and freedom are in the air. 

She sits on her front steps that burn like a stove pan

Hearing screaming.

The heat beats down on her 

Sweat trickles down her back 

Her skin is salty, too

With rivers streaming from her eyes. 

Her skin is burned. 

The lazy golden warmth 

Fades into wet leaves 

Gray mornings 

I sit on my steps

Wishing for the luminous days

It is hollow. 

devastatingly quiet. 

She is still sitting on front steps

She inhales the cinnamon 

And the fresh rain 

It is beautifully quiet. 

I look at her across the street. 

She looks back at me. 

We were once connected 

But the line between sunshine and chilly rain is very sharp.