An empty bus passes by, yellow and wet. The rain falls hard and cold on the, only hours before sunbathing street, just feet’s from my chair. The old yellow-brick house across, has some lights still on. Air is thick of moisture, damp and heavy to breathe in. It makes the distant lights flicker of and on, like a song. Summer is ending and I sit here watching the season’s change, as I do.

The sound of the water escaping the tiers screams, for every car that passes. I just sit and watch, while my mind drifts of to old places and old faces, of friends I haven’t seen for years. Listening to chosen music pressed out in mono by my half-opened balcony door, I find myself glad that the summer is ending. Onwards to the dreams of tomorrow, that never fades, but always changes.

A young girl wearing a baseball cap, to keep the rain out of her face, is walking by, emerged in to her wet, shiny cellular phone. Another yellow bus passes, taking over all the sounds. Then the music returns, as nothing just happened.