Crimson bleeds into the blue sky,
The blazing sun finally starts to set.
A soothing breeze whispers promises of relief,
Replacing the air that was so warm moments ago.
Kids chase each other in the park,
Popsicles in their hands melting.
The sound of their laughter–deafening,
The cicadas buzz together to try and keep up.
As I walk back home, kicking stones,
The sky darkens, matching the gray asphalt.
The tea stall filled with the same crowd as always,
Eyes glued to the TV, praying for a six.
Laying on the floor in my room,
I stare aimlessly at the ceiling fan.
Watching the blades move in circles over and over,
It’s almost hypnotizing.
I wake up to the chirping of birds,
Sun rays form patterns through the window grill.
The kettle brewing tea whistles at me, almost angrily,
As if it’s trying to stop me from sleeping again.
Another day without any expectations,
Another morning walk to start it off.
I try and ignore every street that looks familiar,
Going as far as I can, trying to get lost.
Somehow I end up at the same park as always,
All my detours thwarted by cruel fate.
I take my seat below the mango tree,
Hiding from the blazing sun.
I think back to the summers we spent as kids,
The memories we made right by this tree.
Badminton matches and sodas together,
Throwing stones at the branches, trying to get mangoes to fall.
We would try to go as far as our bikes could take us,
Stay out for a little longer each day, pushing our luck.
Racing each other to the forest, pedals rattling with speed,
Hot wind blew on our faces, begging us to slow down.
Hours spent making intricate stories for games,
Imaginary adventures with warriors and spies.
Lunchtime meant looking for our tree,
Only its shade big enough to fit us all.
The days passed, as they always do,
Another year of school, waiting for summer.
Years passed, as they always do,
Each one somehow feeling shorter than the last.
I think about how much everything changed,
I miss the forest that this park once was.
But some things have still stayed the same,
Our tree still stands, strong as ever.
The mangoes fallen on the tiles;
Though greener than they used to be be,
Still taste the same.
Gray clouds in the sky brighten:
A sudden streak of lightning.
The faint clap of thunder announces your departure,
I prepare myself to bid you goodbye.
Another year waiting for summer.
Another year where things change and still,
Stay the same.
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