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2025 Fall Contest Winner: Hug It Tight
Bella Burnett '28 I asked you, when will I know? When will I be “that” person? When will I be the one with those brilliant ideas, The kind that rush out of people so strongly and quickly, But yet are still so detailed, and meticulously perfected in a blink of my eye. My eye that struggles to see, but still wants to try, I put on my glasses but yet I still find myself asking, When will I be proud? Time blows away, The wind carries what could have been, It’s off somewhere with
Oct 10, 20251 min read
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Just the Way You Like It
Lauren Kim '27 small like your hand fits around my wrist is proof i exist. delicate, exotic, no, you mean less. less voice. less eyes that look back so you touch. Easy. & i learned early to make myself smaller mother’s hands on my shoulders, pressing down, keep your head down, lower your eyes. my smallness was currency. i agreed. i shrunk. but you hated me too. that’s what no one tells you. you loved the fantasy & hated the girl. touchable & despised that i was there in the f
7:15
Lauren Kim '27 I wait for you on platform three where the spring air catches …everything your smile, my breath the promises we never kept The station smells like rain and earthlike something that might bloom if we stayed. if you stayed. Remember when we spun in circles in the damp grass until the world became just us and dizzy? This liminal space between now and nowhere holds us for one more moment. 7:15 pulls in Steam rises Your suitcase waits I watch your silhouette blur b
A Waltz With The Beast
Arden Silver '27 The strange little teapot says: he’s not truly like this, that there’s beauty underneath. She must see deeper than I. For who finds beauty in whetted claws, bristled fur, pointed fangs? Beauty, is in the books in the grandiose library the beast hides away. Beauty, is in the ethereal rose bushes confined in the walls of the castle gardens. Beauty is my name. The beast perplexes me. Invites, no– demands me to dinner, a
The Country House
Arden Silver '27 I take in the little brick house, with its little flower garden in the back, where little butterflies of white, gold, and orange flit past the little bumble bees zipping between the lengthy stalks of sunflowers and bushels of zinnias, their little vibrant petals painted magenta, fuschia, and tangerine, standing out against the sea of green. A warm breeze dances through the little garden, caressing its gentle hands on the little buds and leaves of its neighbor
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