“When the Wind Remembers You”

The air hums with a lullaby of heat—

sunlight spilled like honey on our skin,

and somewhere between the jasmine-scented breeze,

And the echo of cicadas in the hush of dusk,

You return.

A ghost of laughter in the golden light,

barefoot memories on burnt grass,

our fingers once threading constellations

through humid skies,

believing the night would never end.

That summer,

we kissed like time was ours to waste,

like love was something we could bottle—

sipped slowly, like lemonade on the porch,

sweet, sharp,

forever.

But seasons shift without warning.

Now the garden forgets your footsteps.

The swing hangs still.

And every breeze that brushes my cheek

wears your name like a secret.

Still,

when twilight stretches long and slow,

I swear I hear it—

your voice,

woven in the wind,

a whisper of summer

calling me back

to the fireflies,

to the ache,

to you.