Akashia Johnson
The air hums with the scent of hibiscus,
Sunlight spills gold over the wet grass.
I trace the path I once ran as a child,
Past the tulips and the weeping willow tree.
I painted eggs and hid them like secrets.
Laughter flies along the birds,
Aunties table lined with linen.
The church bells sing our song,
A melody I have always known.
I imagine faces clear,
His smile stitched into memory.
Granddad’s cheeks, soft as petals,
Pressed against mine as we cheese for our picture.
He gently hums the hymn, as he eats his bread pudding.
The day moves like a dandelion seed,
Settling in the quiet evening.
I close my eyes and wait for the echo of Easter morning to past.
Remembering because it was whole,
A day that held everyone I loved in a sunlit frame.
Because the world felt soft and full of grace,
And nothing, not even time, could take that feeling away.
Akashia Johnson is a student at Cedar Crest.