Flower Season

by Zuleyka Soto-Carreon, 14

A seed is being planted. Like love plants in your heart. To love is not a rush. But to take time to grow. Beautiful things take time to grow, like a flower. Take care of it and never let it dry or die. Many people give up on it because it takes so long. So long it doesn’t have time to glow. To appreciate. To admire. To adore. My love for you is like a flower. For the water I pour, the flower never dries. My love for you is only for you and I. Him and I. ‘Til the seasons go by. Just wait until I tell you what love is not. Love isn’t how much time you spend with someone or what they give you. Love isn’t true just on one day. Yet it also isn’t the same once you look away. I see you every summer but not every day. But I can’t say I love you, not even straight to your face. We never had anything special, even if I wished we did. You make my heart bloom when I see you on the court, yet I still miss. Miss the time to talk to you. Miss the time to shoot. Miss the time to bloom. Right in front of you. I’ll see you next year, right? We say this to each other every season. But do we mean it when we say next season or just the days we feel like it? Every second with you breases in my mind. Why do I feel like this? It’s been four years. I cant get over the time we spent. It’s just one season.

Red Bank, New Jersey

Reader’s note: I enjoyed the extended metaphor of the piece, as well as the use of the anaphora, which brought a nuanced approach to how vast the feelings of love and desire are.