she found him curled beneath the trees,
all hollow bones and trembling knees.
his eyes were wide, his voice was small,
“you saw me and you’re the first of all.”
she named him sunshine, she called him friend,
they ran through fields that had no end.
they raced the tides and chased the sky,
they dreamed of days that wouldn’t die.
but seasons changed and sunshine grew thin,
his silver breath, a wisp of wind.
“i have to go,” he told her slow,
“some things aren’t meant to stay, you know.”
her fists clenched tight, her lip held fast,
“but you’re my first, you can’t be last,”
he curled around her, soft and true,
“i’ll find you in the morning dew.
in fireflies and falling leaves,
in summer nights, on christmas eves.”
she blinked, and sunshine was dust and air,
a bug she loved that no longer was there.
Hadley Nardolillo is a Freshman in the SCAPA Literary Arts Program. In her free time she enjoys writing poetry, riding horses, playing violin in the Lafayette Orchestra, singing in the Lafayette Choir, and spending time with her best friend, Laila.