The Shimmering summer sun
Sweat soaked shirts sticking
To our suntanned skins
Time is ticking.
The bumpy bus ride back,
Running barefoot on the
grass
And pavement
Alike.
Wonderful worlds we built
Every waking moment,
Wandering whimsicalities,
The wilderness.
Sweltering heat,
The smell of rain in the air,
Relief.
Time is ticking,
Unaware.
Dreamlands,
created of sand
in our hands,
Under our nails,
In our hair.
Moments washed away.
But memories,
They stayed.
Like shells
After the high tide,
Buried
Under our sun-tanned skins
So time is ticking,
But I am aware now.
