Musings From A Quiet Old House

By Elyse Hwang

my grandmother lived in a quiet old house 
hidden on an infinite road of wooded green 
sleepy mist often hugging its walls  

we would visit each month  
and my brother and I would run around playing 
painting the grey halls with colorful laughter  

when our wave of excitement subsided 
I would lay on the soft carpet of the living room 
and stare at the vase on the wood table  

in this teal vase was a small bouquet of roses 
roses with evergreen stems  
and petals as soft as a butterfly’s wings  

sunset pink and yellow  
too delicate to touch  
pastels within a faded room  

their silence astonished me  
they never seemed to move  
no matter how much I looked at them  

every time we returned  
they were on the table of the living room 
watching us from their porcelain home  

my grandmother lived in a quiet old house 
and when she left  
we packed up her belongings  

and I realized her favorite roses were plastic 

Elyse Hwang is a high school sophomore in sunny Southern California. She works for her high school's literary magazine and has had her works recognized by the local PTA's Reflections Contest. When she's not writing or sleeping, you can find her yearning for a blissful snow day.