Priscilla
Ortiz, IMPACTT c/o 2004
Grand
Prize – Poetry – Category 4
Sitting
on top of a mountain
Watching
the life below.
The
wind runs through my hair
Sending
chills down my spine.
I
see a cactus near
Slowly
decomposing
This
says life has gone on even though
There
was no one to watch.
Oddly,
a bird comes out and flies away
This
says all things
Are
someone’s treasures.
Down
below a busy city that never sleeps
Here
on top life that lives as a whisper.
I
think I might stay a while.