Hopscotch and Youth

Hopping from one red sandal to two stanced feet
our young pink faces delight in the sweltering, wavy heat.
The squared orange lines invite burned noses and skinned knees.
We question not the ruthless sun about the missing occasional breeze.
As shadows begin to lower, we realize there is no forever.
Time grows heavy on our weary minds as we group together
departing from the concrete, where pain and age lack,
laughing in our sunglasses, forgetting to look back.