“Friend”

I saw the adorable face.

Joyful color of sunflower blooms,

Shining through the morning’s gloom.

I saw the plastered smile,

Painted with solid, steady,

Sunny yellow.

I know she challenged me

Whether I could pick up,

Pick up her stem,

Still tied to her roots—

To nourish, flourish, and

Prosper her pursuit.

She was a dandelion,

Lion with covered fangs.

"Orangeblue" (from the image collage)

Middle of the afternoon and twilight,

Middle of the friendzone and lovelight - 

More subtle change than the sky turning the sunset.

Inhale and exhale, I feel

The smell of dinner, dew on the grass, 

Sweet scent of 

“Catch up later”.

Sweet memories

Catch up bitter.

“Horizontal Bar”

On a wintry afternoon, my mother pulled me strongly by the hand to the park. Children playing tag looked at me curiously, even at the age of eight, coming to the park alone with their mothers. The bars were freezing cold, and I felt the piercing stares of the children.

It was always scary for me to do something I feared. Remember the order. Put my stomach on the bar. Lower my head and look at my stomach. With momentum, remove my feet from the bar and land on the ground.

Again and again, this procedure was running in my head. Repetition, repetition, repetition. “I can only do those three steps well.”

My mother’s disappointing gaze upset me. She was ready to catch me as I fell. I recalled what I should do, more quickly than before. “Take time, breathe deeply, hold the bar, and…What should I do? I don’t know, but who knows?” People around me tried to explain, but it seemed to be a foreign language.

I stepped away from the bar for 10 years. 

One day, I was in front of the horizontal bar again. The bar looked a little lower due to my increased height, but it seemed to be worn.

A boy came to the bar, and easily spun around it. Then, with a straight face, he kicked a wooden stick that had fallen to the ground and left. I looked at the boy’s back and picked up the wooden stick that he kicked. I started to draw a picture on the ground with this stick. I continued drawing for a bit and looked up. I found a girl sitting on a bench nearby, looking at the bars with a frightened expression on her face. I slowly approached her and gave her the wooden stick. A girl smiled and added to my drawing. On the ground, a bird pleasantly flapping its wings toward far away was painted.

I left the park with the girl. As I gently pushed her back at the park gate, I thought the girl looked like eight-year-old me.