Desserts and Blossoms

Deep, dark chocolate the shade of walnuts
with a hard, shell exterior, 
when bitten down on, cold brushes the tongue—
the chill of fresh, sweet strawberries.

Frosting like a heart—pink and red
atop a brown, foiled pastry, and adorned 
with sprinkles on each curve and the elevated centre.
Sprinkles like hearts, shades of red.

Small, carmine sausages in a thick bread roll
had darkened edges and crispy tips.
Altogether, gathered in a white, stubby bowl,
like pigs in a blanket, rolling in the snow.

Maroon and aureolin mingled in the beaker, 
and when raised to the shimmering, shining sun, 
every bit of pulp is palpable to sight.
Ice cubes jostled, fruit slices swirled.

Alongside candles, forks, flowers, and wrappers, 
the plates were placed on a cerulean checkered blanket, 
enveloping the mat, like a nourishing, 
fulfilling labyrinth of desserts and blossoms.

The blanket rested atop a soft, fluffy patch of grass,
and the maple tree above, with bunches of leaves like clouds,
shaded the desserts before me, and the flowers around—
a picturesque, sunny, tranquil summer day.

Spry and Bright

Ten candles on a ten-layer cake 
A cake so tall a dentist wouldn’t approve
Each flame the shade of rouge
So I blow out the candles 

Then the year after, eleven candles
The flames are spry and bright 
I blow out the light 

Next year, the cake will be crowded
Lighting twelve candles seems like a chore,
But extinguishing feels like rejuvenation 
Inhale, exhale, I blow out air

The year after will be thirteen
Then fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen
It may seem like a chore,
But I will blow out each one.

Pulled In

Maroon red, lilac purple, amber gold.
Aurora colours on the swooping wings
Of fragile butterflies. It jumps from leaf
To leaf and flashes its grand wings to watchers.
A beautiful bright view, the watchers say.

If only their eyes shifted to the side:
A moth with dull greyed wings sits on a wall.
It is the dark sky—twinkling stars surround it.
It is the canvas on which butterflies shine. 

Its eyes spot flickering red flames on candles
With shining vivid shades like sunset glow.
Dull wings take flight, petite feet land on the
Melting wax stand. It tiptoes closer, then
Too close.

Flame touches, then spreads, then envelopes it.
Fire eats its wings, thus forming deadly sheens.
Fire steals its limbs in a colossal blur.
Remains then sprinkle down as smoky ash.
A startling bright view as it fully burns.

Now, I approach the dark tight alley that
May be my flame. My mind is on fire, and 
My daring burns away. But people flutter
Around me, mingling, giggling, and make me 
A shadow like dull gray smoked ashes, yet
I am pulled in.

Grace Lee, a high school student in Seoul, South Korea, is passionate about words. Whether crafting stories or poems, she blends her unique perspective with Seoul’s vibrant culture. Excited to contribute to the literary landscape, Grace’s writing reflects the universal themes of adolescence in a big city.

You can find more of Grace’s work here on Ink Pantry.