By Isabella Brady
We used to sit
Beneath the lazy tree
Wishing for the lull of the swing to vanquish our boredom
Looking up, the dense leaves filtered the sun’s rays
Falling softly on our faces
We used to sit
Beneath the lazy tree
Wishing for the pull of our heavy books to dissipate
Glancing up, the sky teased us behind scattered leaves
Warm light just out of reach
Here we sit
Beneath the lazy tree
Engrossed in open books
The barren branches reveal the vast sky
Necks flush beneath the sun’s harsh glare
We forget to wish
We never look up at all.