Not-Quite

When I walk upstairs

the tangy scent of summer hits me,

blanketing me like a wave.

It's a smell full of fresh air mixed with

green apple shampoo

and the flowers in the garden below.

I can hear the drone of cars

from the busy street nearby.

The light slanting through the white curtains

is the blue-gray of not-quite-night,

when the sun has set,

yet the world is still lit up by its rays.

Outside,

tendrils of wind snake through

the city streets

like molten lava down a volcano's side.

It's the cool feel of almost summer,

where backpacks are still leaning against chairs,

and papers are strewn around bedrooms,

but the world is reaching for that

summer feel

and almost

but not-quite

reaching it.

The Dandy Lioness