The summer is memories
Of chalked drawings and hopscotch squares
I still find it under my nails
Thin layer of dust in pastels
Crammed under, compacted
With summers of my childhood
Reduced to hieroglyphs
Incomplete scribbles, a broken language
Of friendships long forgotten
And places long lost
I can’t help but feel regret
For I was willing to reduce my childhood
To nothing more than chalked reminders
Beneath my nails
Poetic Trials 