The water hose hissed and, for a moment,The faint scent of sunbaked rubberFilled the humid air. Water tickled small, laughing bodiesRunning barefoot through lush grassPeppered with dried needle leaves. They take refuge behind a rundown carWith cracked windows that resembledA spiderweb glistening in the sun. Prompt: Poetics: Sometimes August isn’t recognized by Sanaarizvi (adashofsunny) on […]
My August Childhood
