You must know, August speaks to me in its familiar warmth

These days are blanketed in sunlight and nostalgia

As I run barefoot through the cold grass

I am not my seventeen year old self

I am my seven year old self running through the yard with my sister

The sun lowering in the sky, Light dimming

The late summer sky adapting tangerine hues

Gold light bleeds inside out

Through the windows, Onto the cold earth below

Distant chatter and banging of pots and pans

Sweet aromas fill the air, But we pretend to not notice

Hoping to make our moment evermore

I am my four year old self, Echoes of laughter

To her the sun-drenched tree tops look closest to honeycomb

She sprints across the yard not caring if pebbles pierce her feet

Dandelions fill one of her pockets

Those beautiful pebbles she can not help but still love fill another

Misplaced blond strands tumble from her braid

Illuminated in a golden glow, A halo framing her face

She dreams to be five, A notable age

Smiling proudly she holds up her entire hand

She dreams to be ten, For then she can finally hold both hands up

I watch knowing that time is fleeting

A piece of knowledge that for many years left a bitter taste

However, our edges are only mist

I am all the ages that have come before me

I almost cry in August’s sweetness

It’s a month of longing and remembrance

I feel the rush of air as she runs past

Tall grass brushing her ankles

Tiptoes she stands peering at the soft nature surrounding her

I wonder if I am as familiar to her as she is to me

I wonder if she would hide in shyness,

Or recognize that her laughter is woven into mine

That my feet still hold the calluses of many

August nights not caring if the pebbles pierced my feet

I wonder if she would smile in fondness

Running to my open arms, Welcoming me home

The sun lowers and August bleeds into September

I take notice of how the light still bleeds onto the windowsill

Down onto the cold earth below, Warmth dusting my shoulders

Grass rustling in the late summer breeze

You must know, I hear August whisper,

You are not whole without your memories.