This Town

On Martin Street, the bakery still stands
Its signature blue door faded by years of sun and rain
Joe’s Bakery, established in 1976
But the scent of sweet bread stays the same,
Wafting around the block every morning
The baker, Joe, still works the ovens 
While his son now runs the register
He greets every face like a friend 
Knowing orders before they are spoken
“Two croissants and a coffee, right?”

Down the street, the new building stands
Casting long shadows over the Han River Park, 
Where kids once played under the blazing sun until dusk
Now the light reflects off of sharp angles of glass
A reminder of a world of speed and progress

I overhear a woman at the benches, 
Talking to her friend about the latest development
“They’re building luxury townhouses next door.
Where will we go? We’ve been here for years. 
They say the rent’s going up again.”
Her toddler, oblivious, chases pigeons and plays tag
Laughing, not noticing the changes around him

In the market on the corner, there is always a warm hello
The grandmas in white aprons
Sell vegetables and produce. 
They gossip with each other like always.
They know who has gotten married,
Who has gotten a new job, 
And who has had a hard time
“Did you hear about the old bath house?’ she asks
“They’re tearing it down next month. What a shame,
It’s been there for years.
They’re putting some kind of pilates gym, 
As if we need more of those..”
I nod, remembering the days at the bathhouse 
When my mom would carry me inside 
Because I would throw tantrums to not go inside. 

Change drifts in quietly at first
A new shop, a different face on the block.
Then suddenly, it’s everywhere—
The electric scooters lined up by the curb,
The sleek cafés replacing old corner stores,
And yet, amid the shift, some things stay steady
Mr. Kim, still in his pajamas, 
Sweeps the sidewalk in front of his grocery store every morning

But the passing of time is overwhelming
The familiar faces that fade with time,
Replaced by new ones who don’t nod hello
The mural on Third Street, where we all came together
To put a piece of ourselves forever into the neighborhood
Is now a blank wall, soon to be part of a parking lot
As i observe this place, 
Where I have lived all my life, 
I notice the changes that are both unsettling and inevitable

Still, there is one constant on Martin Street
The bench in the playground
Where the paint is chipped, and the wood is worn

He is not lost

In the city, he walks.
No destination in mind, 
Open to the world around him

Children laugh and chase,
Street vendors call out
Buildings built like a maze

His steps are aimless but deliberate.
Each glance adds to his curiosity.

He doesn’t seek a path to follow 
But finds wonder in the chaos,
Wandering and randomness
He is not lost in this journey

Things We Carried

This is where a stray cat pooped on the field
Everyone avoids sitting near it
Because of the smell

These are the bleachers where everyone sat 
Where girls gossiped,
Hiding from the sun

This is the bean bag
That everyone would fight over
Wrestling for a chance of comfort

This is the pencil that I always lost
Finding it in between couch cushions
And randomly on the ground

This is the pond everyone would stop at
To gaze at orange and white koi fish
And the frogs jumping around

These are the pinnies. 
That everyone hated
Because they were rarely washed 
And smelled like sweat

Katie Hong is a middle school student based in Seoul, South Korea, whose love for poetry is surpassed only by her passion for baking and spending time with her puppy, Loki. With a gift for words and a keen eye for detail, Katie weaves intricate tapestries of emotion and imagery in her poetry, inviting readers to embark on self-discovery and introspection. When she’s not immersed in the world of poetry, Katie can be found in the kitchen, experimenting with flavors and textures to create delicious treats that delight the senses. With a zest for life and a boundless imagination, Katie is committed to sharing her voice with the world and making a meaningful impact through her writing.