The August City

The August winds blow cruelly across my face.
August.
Sun, sand and warm sea waves are noticeably absent.
Harsh currents sweep past,
Wiping the joy off of the streets like a whiteboard eraser.

The streets are deserted except for aimless loiterers.
Students.
They stand around, waiting patiently for September - 
Waiting to work, work hard, and work harder,
Waiting to complain about how far away the holidays are.

The August city flashes by us
Brief reign - 
Brief reign of the cold-hearted summer,
Quickly fading into golden autumn,
Quietly passing us by,

The summer ends with a frosty splash...