the smell of sun soaked oak

it’s 6pm

the sky is turquoise

it’s getting darker earlier

the wooden fence to my left has absorbed 9 hours of the sun demanding no break

i can smell the heat-soaked wood vibrating off the cracks of each panel

i held that breath for a moment

to remember the nostalgic suburb air

it was 3:00pm, I was 8 years old

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death cycles