Glow-Up, Grow Up Scholarship Slam

I come across the bridge again, worn by age and sunrays.

I remember the sight of fireflies, twinkling in unison among the trees and the stars as we inhaled the air.

There’s no fireflies to be found, now.

I remember sitting on its wooden planks at half past 8, visions of grandeur and thoughts for the future spilling between young lips towards lifelong friends.

We’re going to college, now.

I remember the tales we weaved on that bridge, the people we’ve seen cross it, the adventures we partook in upon a few wooden slats.

The elementary school behind it is being torn down, now.

I remember how our footprints shaped the snow, how our dreams shaped the stars, how our wonder rattled the earth.

It looks the same, but it’s different, now.

I remember how hopeful we used to be, bright-eyed and ready to face the world.

We no longer have that light in our eyes, now.

I’m 18. I realize how we’re no longer kids, little Skechers footprints washed away from time and memory.

We’re all moving on, now.