The midnight sun

THE MIDNIGHT SUN

The white fuzz of the dandelions float in the air like tiny parachutes. And I stand there, staring at the horizon. I'm waiting for the sun to set. I'm waiting for the darkness to leak into the world as the dim light of the moon cuts through the night air. And out of nowhere, like a distant memory, I see you in the distance. Your body, outlined by the rays of the sun. You remain smiling at me. So I stand there, at the edge of sea, waiting. Waiting for your face to fade. Waiting for your memories to dissipate. 

But right now, i'm hoping for time to speed up. I'm hoping to feel the freckles on my skin as I grow older and older every second, eventually losing my sight or my ability to remember how you once looked. But with you gone, time seems persistent. Time has forgotten to tick. 

So I wait there, hoping for the sun to set. For you to set. To go away. But it seems that my mind is trapped in the end june, far away in a land like sweden, where the sun never sets. And they call it the midnight sun. Little did I know that you were one.