The grass is dewed
with molecules of anticipation.
Sweet air swirls, and I look
for the boy
with a luminous glow
in his eyes, as he
has been seeking me.
(My parents will loathe him,
and fret .)
I will throw off this gilded frame
that traps me
in the family photo.
My destiny will
spirit me away
from this sad town.
Were Mom and Dad
always a black & white,
faded snapshot
or did they once vibrate
with all the pixels of color
that paint my landscape?
I'll ask them later,
I'll care more when I am old,
Like when I reach
twenty or twenty-one.
Today, I chase storms
and feel the rain
with every prism
of my spirit.