Core Blog

“Summer” – A Summer That Never Ends

July 29, 2020

Words Arwa A.  
Header Credits Tasneem J. (@tjphotography53)


These days you could trade for

 a yo-yo spinning on tabletop, tracing

maps. Like us, routes counted 

by footprints danced. 

In our backpacks, a wild palette 

of unfettered dreams. Unpolished hands

paint the sands gold; only we are kings

who cannot hoard. We only deal

in light, have made that patch of sweat 

and this accidental sunburn our currency.

The sticky rivulets of ice cream sorbet

on my face, your hands, like a lake 

escaping the parch of our throats.

Washed away, over the glades, 

Suffused with the smallest

Of all loveliest things: the day,

Spinning on its axis, like every other.

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