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Whenever I smell maple trees, I’m wearing my red dress, The soft fabric silks around me And I’m skipping along a road. Soft fragrance surrounds me, I wave back at my parents, And Give them a toothy smile. And I make funny gestures Whenever a leaf falls on my head. The large maple trees soar above, And arch in a beautiful way, I see the blur of red, yellow and orange And a hint of green in between. But this is not my story. My story is inside a classroom, Wishing school would end. The teacher ask us a question, But none of us bother to try. Artificial wind blowing At my dizzy head, As the cold metal of the chair Makes my goose bumps do a wave. The class is like a prison cell, Keeping others out, us in. I’m chewing my pencil, As I look through the dark windows, And the rusty school gate. Blocking my path towards, The magnificent maple tree road.
But this is not my story. My story is inside a classroom, Wishing school would end. Artificial wind blowing At my dizzy head, As the cold metal of the chair Makes my goose bumps do a wave. The class is like a prison cell, Keeping others out, us in. I look through the dark windows, And the rusty school gate. Blocking my path towards, The magnificent maple tree road.
Maple Tree Road
By Liz Kang
