The weathered road underneath my feet,
With the cracks giving it personality,
Wavers in the hot summer sun.
Don't walk barefoot on it.
The bubbling asphalt appears to move.
It is a mirage, a trick on the mind.
It's so hot, that children melt crayons on the road.
My friend's ice cream also melts on it.
YOU ARE READING
Childhood
PoetryShort poems reminiscing common childhood memories and experiences, including some inspired by popular 90s and early 2000s cartoons
