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Sometimes,

When I would lie awake at night

With the heat sitting, oppressive, upon my chest

I would hear

The crickets.

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It would always drive me wild;

Every time I tried to fall asleep,

I would hear nothing but

The crickets.

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Tossing and turning,

chasing my sleep,

counting the hours that I was losing

because of a few stubborn bugs

determined to make me curse the night!

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On those summer evenings,

sitting on a squeaky swing

With love in both hands,

(Rowling in one and Funke in my other)

I would lose myself in another world

only to be brought, screaming, back by

The crickets.

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Tireless,

Determined,

Incessant chirping pounding in my ears

driving me back and forth

from peace to chaos

tossing me in every direction while I

just.

want.

to.

concentrate.

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Please.

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Summer rolls on.

only the nights matter though;

heat and light kill my days.

So I stalk the nights,

books in hand,

parking myself under streetlamps or in doorjambs

I'm leaving anyway,

why does it matter where my body rests?

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Page after page,

fighting to stay inside the lines

by leaving them

Floating above, enjoying the sound of the wind

and hating it all the same,

curling my hands into fists,

crumpling pages...

Those crickets!

That I miss the Crickets.