#foriegnexchangestudent
The first:
tall, imposing,
a sixth-grade boy,
watching,
admiring.
The second:
scary,
with frostbitten eyes
that hid careful warmth.
The third:
too loud,
but perfectly warm,
melting the frost.
The boy,
now eighth grade,
listens to the two senior girls
with filters
That seems to not catch anything.
Still,
He listens,
intent.
The fourth:
straight as a soldier,
his heart locked,
But the key was found.
The fifth:
a walking cliché --
too kind,
too forgiving,
and fond of syrup.
The sixth:
brought in by the fifth.
A new boy,
just reaching high school,
watches him, curious.
The seventh and eighth:
closest in age
mirrors of what the boy could be.
Now:
the boy,
a senior,
sits in his home,
a room across from him as he writes
Number Nine.
She works, she toils,
the boy
With his lifetime to view her
her sarcasm and wit.
He came to a conclusion
all perfect sister-qualities.
Number Nine,
the boy’s favorite.
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 3:21 PM UTC
Siblings
I have many,
Not by blood
But it's 2025 for god sake:
Family is who you choose!
They have come and gone,
but never truly.
A silver key,
a brass key,
a key nonetheless.
For a home,
far from their first one.
One in a foreign country,
one to be unlocked at any time.
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 3:09 PM UTC