When Money Grew on Trees

Tessa Lomoro '26

I stood on clouds of cotton candy.

I picked money growing on a tree.

I walked through colorful forests.

I felt as though I was three.

I ran and hopped and jumped.

In joy and gladness and glee.

The breeze in my face, breathing cinnamon-scented air,

I was enthusiastic as can be.

But when things took a shift,

The happiness vanished before I could see.

My world began to crumble,

From stone, mud, and debris.

Dark clouds painted the sky,

I sent a begged plea.

A rushing water drowned me, making it difficult to breath,

I never even liked the sea.

My head pounding, my heart racing,

With no one in sight, I only yearned to be free.

The sounds of a motor in my ear,

Pain scorching my skin as if burned by tea.

How did my dream wonderland fade?

When would this nightmare end and leave me?