By Joy Mastron

The clock is ticking backward

To a time I never had,

Replaying every memory,

Songs both sweet and sad.

Our lives flash not before our eyes,

But carve upon our heart,

So use your minutes carefully,

There can be no second start.

We sit,

We wait,

We listen,

For an exciting life to begin.

And then forget,

Ignore,

Betray,

The people we could have been.

Anticipating the future

At the time seems pleasant,

Though we seem to put away the thought

“There’s no gift like the present.”

If each of us took time to observe

And not to simply speak,

Then most would hear the wisdom

Buried deep within the meek.

Thoughts of self instead consume us,

Like a wolf devours a sheep.

If we don’t live while awake,

Are we really, then, asleep?

Don’t trap yourself, child,

In a search for escape.

But fight the wars which you were given

Before tomorrow is too late.


j_mastronBecause the world around her is never lacking in interest or adventure, the brain inside Joy Mastron’s skull is always busy coming up with new ideas. This somewhat peculiar 17-year-old lives in the not-so-wild west of Southern California on a small half-acre farm in the suburbs of Los Angeles. Though most of her spare time is spent in drawing and watercolor painting, Joy has a passion for reading and writing, as virtually every wall in her house is lined with books. She hopes to write and illustrate a novel someday, but for now she’s excited to be writing poetry, and maybe even short stories if she has the patience.