Narrative Poem-

His hands pulled me closer

Smirking and kissing me

He admired the way

My hair curled flawlessly down my back,

And then continued his previous actions

Cooking dinner for two

I was excited,

A night of peace and alone time

He said,

This is it,

All the lemon you have?

Frowning, he forcefully squeezed the lemon

To get out every last drop for the marinade

I said, “we were at the store, you should have said something”

Disgruntled he began his next task

Steaming the rice

I hoped it would all be ready soon,

Both of us starving

A few minutes passed,

I picked at the Caprese salad, he turned the chicken

And then we ate

It may have just been the best meal ever.

Ode to Sleep

You wait for me every night

Though you refresh me by the morning

You renew me

My beauty, my body, my energy

You create my dreams

Capture my thoughts

You find a way to cater to

My sore legs, sickness or heartache

You defeat both my anger and sadness

Lessoning my rage or calming my tears

Oh sleep, I could not live without you.

Sometimes you keep me functioning,

Giving my brain a break

Or forcing my eyes closed when they want to play

Using the pillow as your guidance,

You create a place of comfort

I come to you sleep

For when things get tough

You are always there to support my suffers.

Raging Races

The memory was vague, but simple small details seemed to jump out at me. It was the Fourth of July and I was a nervous, hyper four- year old. My mom had forced me overcome my fear of competition, but I was extremely reluctant. The crowd of vigorous children filed into rows at the starting line. The man who administered the race scolded us about the rules, and not to cheat. His words echoed in my head “If you go out of bounds, you will be asked to leave the race.” This was my first time ever running in a race. My nerves would not calm down; they fizzled like a chemical reaction. The gunshot spewed violently into the air, and there was no turning back. I was frightened, but all I could do was run my fastest. I took off like a rocket in my little plastic pink shoes, refusing to run in any other attire. After gaining distance on several other runners, I was in first place. Each curve further seemed like a pathway to death. I was panicking, I hadn’t really understood the concept of a race, I was so young and naive. I slowed down, because I was so far ahead and thought that was wrong. After a few steps of walking, I reached my Mom. She said, “Ali, what are you doing” “Run sweetie, Go, Go, Go” “You’re in first place”. Her encouragement brought me back to sanity. She started to pace me. I reached a speed comparable to waves crashing quickly at shore. I felt as if I was flying, as if my feet were flaming beneath me. The finish line became visible. I didn’t want to run anymore, I was so tired. A quarter-mile sprint was an absurd distance for a four year old. I approached the Mount Everest of Hills. I wanted to give up, I could barely breathe. A six year old was gaining on me, right on my tail. My incentive rose again. I ran my fastest ever, blocked out the pain and burst into the finish line with lack of breathe. In bright orange the light-up board read 1^st place, and my time. The volunteers at the end of the lane pulled off my number to record my running time. I was then given a cup for water. I took a quick swig. The water moistened my dry, dehydrated mouth. Water had never tasted so amazing in my life. I could breathe again. My family paraded me with hugs. This included my aunt, uncle, cousin, grandparents, and of course my parents. I was the first in the family to make it through the race. I could care less about the results of the rest of my family’s future races. The only thing I was concerned with was the scorching sun beating down my back. I begged my mom to take me to the pool. Reluctantly, she took me to swim. I slipped on my favorite scarlet red Dalmatian bathing suit, and dived into the cold refreshing water. My body became numb with relief. My mother then left me there with my grandparents so she could observe my brother’s race. I lay in the pool consumed by complete and utter satisfaction.