For the hundredth time,
I waited outside.
I sat underneath the dangling chestnut tree.

I wore a dress so white,
it told the sun to make my skin glow.
The air smelled sweet.

The sounds of the town

(muted from the moisture in the air),
went on droning in the distance
like a thick summer syrup
dripping
slowly from the sky.

And just in time,
before the heavy rains fell,
we rode our bicycles
through the tall green grasses.

They swished
as we wheeled along,
putting on a little dance
for the next passerby.

e.c