Lips parched dusty dry in this weather
the first day of the summer
like sandy desert rock
splitting shards of once molten degrees
into the furnace of sunlight
that spits on the ground
falling asleep, standing around

poignant sunlight glances off the window frames
and reminds me
that it has now been ten years
technicolour memories remain
although the order is vague
but the place is familiar in my mind
if only I could relive that sensation one more time
but in a different form

this year it may come true