Time : 
Touched by the rhythm of the night, 
My eyes are tenderly closed, 
Consolidated for hours, 
My mind begins to race, 
Trapped in never ending brain cycles with a sense of pace, 

Not one hour, but a year or two has flashed by, 
Reaffirmed the end of another year is waited to be here, 
With scorching heat, 
Trapped onto wrinkled foreheads, 
Where each horizontal line across the face, 
Represents a field, 
One of tomatoes or one of grapes perhaps, 
Where blisters scorch through Mothers hands, 
While muscles weaken through fathers legs, 
It is mirrored struggles, 

Struggles that become hardships, 
Some that continue with time, 
Time that is so cruel, 
Where no matter the agony, 
Time never stops, 
Time never stops for them, 
Time never stops for us, 
Time never stops in the fields, 
Time never stops as we continue to live.

-- Yaslin C., 9th-12th Grade