By night, the seas have receded.

The sky is dim. The houses are lit.

Dawn presses the yesterday sky

beneath its unruly presence. The sun

lifts itself like a magician, carrying

its bright, orange orb with a gentle,

seamless glow. Driving back into

the neighborhood, I see neighbors

come and go. I see their children step

outside and play with each other,

noises of glee, noises of bliss. Then,

I see the strays roaming along the street.

They live, just like the rest, under the

sun, ushered by time. A mellow breeze

flows through the July neighborhood.

A thought of ice cream runs through

my head. But, will this feeling ever

come again? When all that is left is

my room and my bed. But, will I ever

enjoy my childhood again? When all

that is left is a path closer to the end.