Ten years ago,
You emptied a jam jar
And called it our
Promise Jar.
We wrote on paper slips,
I promise to do the dishes.
I promise I’ll stay out of fights.
I promise I’ll always love you.
Ten years later,
I’m still writing promises.
I promise you’ll live forever.
Ginny Feng lives in Tennessee, where she writes short stories and learns lots.
Birds are made to fly.
Light bones, little beaks, big wings
Ready to steal the skies.
Birds are made to fly, and
Humans are made
To live.
Light homes, little kids, big hearts.
Forging happiness.
But rooms go dark
Children grow up
And hearts break.
Do birds tire of flight?
Ginny Feng lives in Tennessee, where she writes short stories and learns lots.
A, B, C, D. Test subjects.
Under dark we whispered the names of our parents, our sisters, our brothers. We vowed not to forget them. Not to forget ourselves.
The Experimenters did weird things to us. We behaved. To them, we were toys.
To ourselves: Autumn, Briar, Calla, Dawn. Girls.
Ginny Feng lives in Tennessee, where she writes short stories and reads fantasy and learns lots.