The last desperate cry of the cicadas
fill the air as the wind
kicks up,
dashing all my hopes
of a lasting summer.
Fleeting waves of heat
flash through my head.
A time where you
and I lounged like
lizards upon rocks,
soaking up the sun
in the sweltering heat
passes by within
an instant.
My carefully composed
grin falters,
replaced by a cold mask
of fear,
but I quickly regain
composure and
move along,
the cicadas buzzing frantically
above me,
beneath me,
beside me.

But the cicadas are growing louder
and more desperate to be heard,
and soon, they will be gone.