Noa Opeyemi, age 14

“Stones in Paris, Italy,” written during a WriteGirl Poetry Palooza, takes the perspective of a rock on the side of a SoCal road. Rocks really do rely on others for their fate — they can’t move on their own, so it takes the wind or a flood or some person to move them into what’s next, and all this rock has of its own are hopes and dreams.

Stones in Paris, Italy

I dream of mornings, afternoons and evenings
on a beach, somewhere in Italy.
Or at the bottom of the Indian Ocean.
I’ve heard they’ve got sharks down there and
I’ve just gotta see one.

I know it’s wrong, but sometimes I wish for a flood.
Rivers of dirt and debris will take me somewhere more
beautiful.
But I’ve heard that we are in a drought.
And that means there is no tide to take me
anywhere.

Pretty stones get skipped,
tossed into water to start their new adventure.
And I hope someday there will be someone
who will deem me worthy
of being thrown into the next phase of my life.

This has not happened yet,
but dreams are just unhappened reality.
And I know that one day, my life will look like
suntanning and baguettes
somewhere in Paris.

That’s in Italy, right?