Sand Castles and Feathers by Minha Kyun (13, Georgia)

There’s a framed drawing on my desk 
which my sister drew in the fall 
of 2017, in our old Samik apartment. In the drawing, 
my brother and I look at the sky,
​our muddy hands on the sand castle 
we were building. ​

---

​My dad stands beside me, holding 
a beach towel. Behind us, 
the ocean yellows from the sunlight 
and the summer sky, 
while seagulls slit through the clouds.
My sister swims toward us, 
moving her feet up and down, splashing water 
to my mom standing on the seashore, waiting 
for my sister to rise. Next to this drawing is a music box 
my dad bought in Paris. When I spin its lever, it sings 
the Swan Lake 
softly and makes me imagine the girl 
painted on the box, dancing around, solid dirt under 
her thin ballet shoes, pink flowers and trees coating 
the green hills around her, and wind lightly blowing 
as she dances like a feather that spins 
down from the sky. 
She twirls, 
then jumps to the  side. 
​
We all have memories we want to frame, to allow 
to dance and spin and sing.