Hope, a poem by Alyssa Wu, 13

Hope

Alyssa Wu, 13

Fresh air floating on the old urban streets
San Francisco is a ghost town.
The flowers are blooming silently,
The once filled shops sit cooped up in an empty plaza.

Unprepared awaiting to be prepared
Gray buildings of fear in a major metropolis
Next year at this time, the sun will still be rising on
The golden gate bridge,
The view is still there, the viewers far less

Will you celebrate the new year with me?
I spread hope we wouldn't have to be six feet seclusion
We won't wear face masks anymore
let's hug and laugh to cheer
The city is full of colorful vitality