By Angela Liu, Class of 2024, Honorable Mention of “The Roar”‘s High School Fall Writing Contest!
On the way back the mall offers me
a final jingle. It is November
on its last stand and it tingles on the shell
of my reddened ear. My face frozen
by cold air, stung and lasting.
To wait is to fall asleep:
my trees are late to lose their minds
when their neighbors are already bare.
The plumbursts on the driveway
are perfect, gory tears.
I age and waste my sweetness.
Here I am not afraid of winter.
I have given my future to the summer
and loved Demeter as she withered.
Here is the streetlight in the early dark,
sodium orange and whispering
overhead. I feel my shadow linger
behind me, making friends with the earth.
Do not look. Do not turn around.
To fall is to reach the ground.
The Roar 