Does July beckon to dreamers at night?
Do trains only keep explorers waiting?
Standing still in thick air and soft moonlight,
At the time when cities are sedating?
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Do footsteps still echo on the hard ground?
From running through dim streets lined with green trees?
Does laughter mask the sound of lost and found
Or short breaths and panting with hands on knees?
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Does the city still call out foreign names?
Calling them forth to warm moments of youth?
Like hiding in large crowds with age-old games
Or from clocks that tell the depressing truth?
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Do you dream of July in spring as well?
Or is it a bittersweet tale to tell?
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Thanks for reading!
-Chanté
About the Creator
C.R. Hughes
I write things sometimes. Tips are always appreciated.
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