Spring Was the Season of Growth

by Ayesha Asad


spring           was the season

I began to regret

my idleness,

lying on my belly

as I read tattered, cavernous

volumes,      sucking them into

my throat

for consumption.

I ate them as easily

as the

chile limon

chips that peppered

my childhood, like a

warm glaze, carefree, my face        a smooth canvas

for puberty to

mar with paint. I used to come home

to pygmy dandelions          and jellied lizards. when our parents

closed their

bedroom door, my sister and I huddled

on the sofa together,

wrapping ourselves

like mango peels, protection            from the bacteria that

swarmed the carpet, clustered like ant piles.

now, spring is

a flurry of coats falling                   off chairs

and bootlaces being tightened

and my parents’ white door

blankly opened.                  there is no time

to explore the              bookshelf, to kiss soft

daisies, to oil bike gears            laced with grime.

all that idleness,

I don’t think I miss it.

I think I miss

the snowman my sibling and I

built when I was nine,

scraped snow from cold,

slithering grass, darkened with              freezing rainwater,

about two feet tall.             He couldn’t have

supported much weight,

as it was the first snowfall

we’d gotten in years, and we had to be satisfied

with the scrawny baby carrot

we lodged into the snow,          jutting out like

the cragged red boulders

of a canyon. I miss the smooth, pink berries

we plucked from minty leaves

and never ate because

they might’ve been poisonous.

but the idleness, I remember,

floated me to the clouds,            where I bathed in papery mist and

rosebud sunrays,                      and I forgot how to walk

in solid dirt.


Ayesha Asad is a freshman at the University of Texas at Dallas majoring in Literature and Biology. Currently, her writing has been published or is forthcoming in Santa Clara Review, Blue Marble Review, Eunoia Review, Skipping Stones Magazine, and TeenInk and has been recognized by the Creative Writing Ink December 2019 contest.


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