Unit Next Year

Until Next Year

By: Talya Langer

The sun lingers,

but only in memory.

Bare feet on asphalt instead of sand, warm sunsets swapped out for cold ones,

the hum of August nights a distant thought.

September closes the door to summer gently.

I stare at the fading season,

knowing the warmth will return.

The late nights savored

until everything is sunny and golden, until I'm tan and sandy,

until once again the world is warm.

Until next year, when summer comes again.