In our dreams, magpies fly down a silver river
and build bridges from their fluttering wings.
Summer, and we lean up into empty twilight,
plead for passage across her sparkling rapids.
Here, we carry all that she hoped to someday
see: our blossoming children, forgotten eyes
lined with the caress of age, the soft scent of
reunion. We fill the brims of Altair’s woven
baskets with these; heaven relents. We feast
on the sight of our old homes, our first loves.
For a fleeting night, we weave a tapestry of
togetherness on Vega’s ephemeral loom and
reminisce. Over the ten thousand kilometers
that inevitably press us apart, we scatter
the embers of our respective hearths and wait,
breathlessly, for the day the river overflows.
Amy Liu is a high school student from Long Island, New York. Her work has been nationally recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and the National Council of Teachers of English. Her poetry is found or forthcoming in The Rising Phoenix Review, Small Leaf Press, and more.