Emily is 14 years old, and will be a high school freshman in the fall. She loves to write poems and short stories.
If the city streets should gleam, Their brightest sights, in teams of lights Our memories, to be stored, In hand-sized electronic devices, As if we could fully capture the beauty, With a shutter
Wet. Cold. Warm. Of all the things we could believe in- Of all the moments we cannot ever forget Of all the people we aspire to become- Of all the shores we have yet to reach Of all the lives we have yet to change- Our ships sail forward, Onwards, to everything that impossible thought was possible
Patterns as swift as sand, Running through the fingertips of cement, Almost as if they are bound to stay forever strong, In an attempt to stay homeward-bound, They stay in ground, Eternally still It started at the fountain- In the land beyond an ocean Two strangers by blood- Two lovers by fate Never before Was an eye to see- People with minds Individuals with hearts
Bricks They stack up high Up above all that is known And beyond the expected In times of quarrel An army lies in peace Aware of the wall Which led them to victory She swims Still in the reflection Of the things that once were And the things that now are
A crosswalk of feet, In perfect disillusion as- An observer were to comment on- The steady movement of mechanical pacing, Through the pale, white, bread shaped minivans- All fast and unheeding- As if for a moment the world may stop moving And we may discover- A freckled-complexion of brown eyes and dark hair- In the whirlwind of formal business attire