The River's Palette by Seungbihn Park (15, New Jersey)

I strolled down, along the Hudson River, 
the late afternoon autumn breeze ruffling 
the edge of my skirt. A picture caught 
my eyes. A man of umber eyes and hair 

with a beard that traced the edges of his 
warm smile. An officer. His pictures 
lingered on the cage-like metal strings, 
chrysanthemum shriveled around him. ​

---

Their dried, browning petals lost their 
grip at last and collected on the bricks. 
Next to them were the words that read:
It’s so easy to remember you, but it hurts 

to miss you. From a loving father. A wave 
of emptiness with grains of  doubt rose 
and fell. Then I saw the clouds. I sat 
on a rusty, wooden bench observing them. 

Layers of pastel paint fanned out behind 
the shadows of New York City. The coral 
gradually fading into the daffodil and finally 
the cerulean. Each color paling away towards 

the sky’s rim. The bridge and buildings 
bronzed in the light, and images of vague 
fireworks fragment in the clear blue below 
the running boats. As the sun distanced, 

the grey shadows of the clouds eased into 
white. I observed the silent sky. Then I traced 
my slow steps back to the world, listening 

to the waves crash.

​