Hot day, severe heat
Children are looking and waiting
Fire Hydrant blowing six feet high
Mother’s keeping their eyes open
Quiet, now screaming, intense drama

Clothes hanging out to dry
Phone ringing in the distance
Listen to the metal fan turning
Hot, musty, sweat rolling down the face

Lemonade running low
Misled by a small breeze
Babies barefooted and in diapers
Eyes peering, heads turning
A dead silence falls

Oh the music is beautiful
Everyone stops what they are doing
Children race with their earnings
Yes, finally a relief from the sun arrives
THE ICE CREAM TRUCK

Melvin D Burns