Outside it's hot and sticky,

The dirt dusts our bare feet,

And animals gently rustle the grass, golden and long.

The sun is reaching towards us.

The bright rays feel like lasers,

Poking our burnt skin,

Prodding at the raw of our backs,

As we try to hide from the light above us.

We can save each other.

We stumble as we skip,

Elaborately chained together,

Holding hands that are rough.

Our skin feels like oak bark.

The scraggly trees provide little shelter,

But the Illusion of shade is keeping us safe,

Causing us to laugh as we huddle close in the itchy grass.

We're saved from the light.