The cold sticky liquid ran down my hand.
It was the perfect summer day.
The symphony of birds chirping filled my ears.
My toes were buried in the warm sand.
The sun was bright, there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
The aroma of grilled food danced in my nose.
My tongue met the ice,
I licked the strawberry syrup.
And thought to myself,
What a perfect summer day.
The wind sent a wonderful breeze my way.
I licked the ice again,
But my ice fell.
The symphony of birds stopped.
It grew dark.
The aroma of grilled food turned burnt.
My strawberry snow cone was gone,
And my perfect summer day was gone.
At the drop of a snow cone.