“Golden Rod” by Emona Ji, grade 11
There are flowers growing on your grave.
At first I was angry
That the world kept growing without you,
That the world forgot your name
I stomped them in an instant.
At first I was triumphant,
Then I stormed away in tears
At the sight of drooping yellow gems
The lemon of your favorite dress,
The gold sunshine through your windows,
The saffron of sunlit highlights in dark hair,
The amber of your phone lock screen,
The honey of fragrant old perfume,
The yellow of your home in my heart.
The flowers are growing on your grave again.
At first I was sad,
Then I picked one and tucked it behind my ear
And heard your gentle laugh.
