Firsts and Lasts

By Ishika Aggarwal

Her wailings echoed in that tiny apartment,

The one with stickers and scribbles on the walls, 

Encapsulated her desire to never leave,

Clutching those fingers with all her might, reddening.

Her pigtails played hide and seek with the sun,

While her very first smiles were beaming in a classroom,

Those eyes brimming with saline teardrops, so facile,

Now searched for a means of expression.

Forlorn nights were poetically flooded with reveries,

Damp yet hueful mornings a new beginning,

Her shadow now a seraphic company,

And a pencil complimented her tears.

Unending questions tangled,

Hands shot up in curiosity,

Despite the ever present fear of rejection, 

She asked, unknowingly confidently.

Those concrete walls were yet so abstract,

Fourteen years and her first fall still etched,

The gates, though rusty, still lit up oh so remarkably,

A glance, a smile, and damp cheeks followed involuntarily.

Her dreams were now her reality,

Yet rainbows and moonlight had her quill 

Warmly bursting with nostalgic friendships and memories,

Melting onto the frost of her bittersweet parchment.

School, they say, is part of life,

But isn’t it life synonified,

Abound with bliss and bruises?

Never wanting to go, yet never wanting to leave.

By Ishika Aggarwal