Change
When that long-awaited bell rings,
the orange sunset mixes with pink clouds,
spilling lazily through the hallway windows.
When the loudspeaker plays its tune,
a ginger cat leaps from the wall—
light as a bird, vanishing from sight.
When I ask my friend if she wants yogurt,
the straw is already piercing her cup—
this joy belongs only to Friday afternoons.
When sparrows sing on wires,
and turtle doves with pearl-grey necks
alight on branches—
the air fills with their music.
When the liriope brushes my ankles,
tiny violet blooms hide between blades,
and camellia petals drift like butterflies,
painting the pond with colors.
When children’s chatter rises and falls,
basketballs bounce, bicycle bells ring,
they play in their own world
while parents watch from another.
When we meet one afternoon
beneath a rainbow after rain,
we greet each other face to face—
I hold your smiling hand.
