3 Poems/Olivia Augustian

The Things Worth Coming Back To

I’m from a red brick house, 
a sweet ranch built on a large plot of land. 
From cornfields and cow manure, 
freshly mowed grass, the smell of pavement, 
and birds chirping as the sun comes up. 

I’m from the big Oak Tree, 
from the Sandbox, the Treehouse, and the Creek. 
I’m from climbing trees like Tarzan, 
from broken bones, dirt on my skin, 
and grass stains on my jeans. 
I’m from blanket forts and make believe worlds, 
from throwing paper airplanes, 
sprinkler fights, and chlorine in my hair. 

I’m from “dinner’s ready at 5:00!” 
From hot casserole dishes… 
cheesy crunch; meatloaf; shepherd's pie. 
I’m from Festivus up north, 
Friday night fish frys, and Grandma’s strawberry torte. 
From snuggles before bed with mom, 
and fishing at dawn with dad. 
From “good morning” and “goodnight,”
and “I love you, too.” 
… 

Soon I’m from change and moving, 
from packing my things into cardboard boxes. 
Because suddenly 
I’m from divorce, 
from two       separate       houses now. 
No longer just from red bricks – 
but from white stucco too. 

Beauty and Possibility

I miss the days
where we would lay on our backs
in the freshly cut grass
and search for creatures in the clouds...

following each others’ fingers
pointing upwards
at panda bears,
Santa Claus,
and fire-breathing dragons.

We were so full of dreams back then,
so confident in our futures
and in who we wanted to be.

I can’t help but envy
that quiet corner of the world
we’d carved out for ourselves,
that magical place of certainty
where everywhere we looked,
there was Beauty
and Possibility.

The Last Chapter

How silly was I to think
that Beauty and Possibly had no ending,..
that I could hold onto childhood
forever and ever...

Did it toss its things into a tightly-packed suitcase
and run away from home?
Did I drop it in the candy aisle of the grocery store,
to be left all alone?
Did it fall behind on the walk to the bus stop,
one early morning before school?

I’ll never know how I lost it...
just that I was meant to,
so I could make room on my nightstand
for growing up.