Children of Summer

Driving with my windows down,
music pulsing through my interior.
Hot leather seats that burn unbearably
as the sun blazes through the roof.
As the wind rushes through my hair,
I know I'm never coming back,
never coming back to this place, this moment.

Tiptoe through the lazy blades of green,
barefoot and care-free,
children of the summer day.

The bells of the nearby schools are silent.
The halls, like the desert,
call for the liberated souls of the season.
Old Ms. Black goes home till August
and drinks herself to sleep.
The days are long and she is alone,
she's never coming back, no, not this time.

Forget your sorrows in the white clouds,
tank-top laden teens,
children of the summer day.

Neighborhood cookout smoke in the sky,
family reunions and
the renewal of parents and child.
Hiding in the bathroom as the sirens blare.
Mother, daughter, father, son
hold on tight as the summer winds
find a house to tend to, hold on.

Trickle down storms on our eternity,
fearless as one,
children of the summer day.

Lovers dazzled in the sunrise ribbons,
full of early morning ecstasy,
find each other in the meadow.
Invincible in the light,
infected by the lips of each other.
Her hair in his face, as he holds tight.
His whispers in her ear, as she inhales.

Untouchable in youth
armored in love,
children of the summer day.