Spring breaks in like a shallow inhale. Where have we been all this time?
Meanwhile, I’ve learned that all change stems from pain.
Since, I’ve felt everything for you.
I collect these, between tears and laughter. “That’s okay. And this is what I don’t need.”
Each day an archaic parallel, like a glass shard held up to the sun. Like a celebration.
I really wish I were a garden. I wish you could see that in me,
all silly and deep, with my hands under your sweatshirt. pink buds sway reduced
to their essences, next morning I wish I were a garden. concrete can’t collect the rain.
and nature’s so selfish and innocent. we know even death
can awaken us, sometimes. But I’ll find some place other to meet you.
Sarah Pritchard-Smith lives and works in Vienna, Austria, where she is currently taking a gap year after finishing high school. She loves theatre and acting, reading, and spending time outdoors. For her, writing is a way to channel her experiences and emotions honestly and an attempt to make something beautiful out of any situation.