Summer
The air is hot and humid but it’s the place we call home
Yet something is changing, and today, at last, come the words we must say
We wish and we wander, we rage and we roam,
for the past is still present on this thirty-fifth day of May
Fall
The warmth is fading and there’s a chill in the air
A petal is plucked, then another, fated to be stepped upon
How loud do we speak, how far do we dare?
Because the leaves that have fallen are lost but not gone
Winter
The shops are closed, the roads are empty
and a dark downpour approaches, fervent and fierce
The future is clouded as fog fills the streets
but it can’t drown our voices, our freedoms, not even our fears
Spring
A girl grips her umbrella like a shield from the rain
Stay strong and steady, says her father, for the storm will cease soon
All will stand tall, knowing none was in vain,
as ever so slowly, the bauhinia flower begins to bloom
Eirlys Chui