Sage in the Garden

Molly Taft

My garden lies between the hill and the old man’s shed. With trees of green around it and the sun right overhead. And in the morning when I’m still dizzy and tired from last night’s rest, I’ll water the flowers and pull the weeds and scare away the pest.

But before I go, I’ll continue to grow my favorite, most prized possession, the star of the stage, my beautiful sage, my one and only obsession. And I’ll water her, and prune her, and ask if she’s doing well. And I’ll notice that she’s wilting, a friend can always tell.

Who else matters when my dearest sage is dying before my eyes? So I water her again and again and watch the colors change in the sky.

Light blue, purple, dark blue, black. She’s going, going, gone. And suddenly there’s a vacancy, an emptiness on my lawn.

In the morning light I’ll wake up to see the other plants dry. For they have received no love from me, not a single look from my eye. But they loved me so, and I loved them too, So I pull the sage from its shallow roots.

And I water the others with precious care, remembering how they always waited there. And how they’d never wilt under too much water, because all my love was never too much for them.

Ava Barrera

Waves of auburn hair, glossy emerald eyes filled with pure love, the most freckled skin I have ever seen. Everything started to make sense, the puzzle pieces started to connect. A voice as warm as chicken-noodle soup on a cold winter day. Smells of lemongrass and sleep. Never knew of someone so sweet.

Who thought it was her? Not little me, of course. Little me had no clue it could turn out like this, no one said it could. Until it did. One cold autumn night. *incoming direct message* Who knew that one little message would last this long? Eight months to be exact. In just that little time, a whole volcano erupted.

I never understood what “butterflies” meant until that day. The pure giddiness of a simple notification. Someone to finally lose sleep for. “What a dream!” little me would say. Oh if she could see me know. Her eyes would be as bright as the sun. To finally feel the romantic love she always deserved. I can see it now: “She’s really ours? All mine? Is she gonna leave?” Now that, my love, I am not sure. Doesn’t everyone always leave? I do not think this one will. She pinky promised, those cannot be broken.We deserve this, we deserve to be loved with compassion and care. Her heart now mine, beats the same from miles away.