Our last night was a joyful one Yet dread waited, a heavy fog As we both knew it had to end. The next sight of each other Would be like Pixilated building blocks. Seated under the rosy sky Her laugh the flutter of a jay’s wings The wind’s small sigh. Her room Like a doll’s house Stacked with boxes, marked Ireland Two years too long The wail of my heart As I look back Until she disappears And rain trickles down. Sarah Wood, 12Seattle, Washington
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