To 2015 - 2016

By Leila Mohammadizadeh

  1. Untitled
    By Carly Schmitt, 12
There is a blur.
A blur of green.
A blur of gray.
A blur of warmth.
A blur of cold.
All that exists outside of it becomes a blur,
and with increasing speed
the blur becomes a kaleidoscope.
A kaleidoscope of colors
and images
and life
distanced from itself.
The breeze bounces
and something as light as air produces a sound
louder than stretched out shouts
intertwined with the rumbles of rubber
against asphalt through a tunnel.
There is a calming feeling here,
greeted by the soft texture of worn leather
beneath my fingers.
My hair,
golden in the sunlight,
dances wildly around my face
and settles in a lovely design
at the approach of each gleaming red light.
This is in the summer,
when the sun burns with a ferocity
that only a blast of wind can tame.
When my elbow rests atop the exterior
and my hands twirl gracefully with the passing sights.
When the smell of lavender wisteria politely requests entry inside
and silently produces a sweet aroma
that rests sweetly above my head.