Summer in town

The promised storm did not come. A few feeble drops cooled things down for half a day. The joy I felt when I first heard the wind slightly rustling the tree's leaves, when it grew more fierce whilst the light retreated steadily, blowing scraps of paper and all the rubbish across the pavements and the tarmac still radiating the day's heat, when finally I ran downstairs, outside to catch the pelting raindrops on my hot and sweaty skin, the joy is gone. Muffled by the dry air, sickly sweet with the smell of blooming trees.
The few clouds can't keep away this scorching, unforgiving sun. The earth, the grass, the poor plants in the local park scream for water and a cool breeze. The streets and parks are empty, only after the sun mercifully disappears behind the roofs and treetops do people emerge from their hot, glowing houses. I walk trough the streets feeling no relief at the sight of the dark sky, speckled with stars, dominated by the waxing moon. Every morning brings a new rise of temperature, the sun that abandoned the spring now won't leave until all is dry and parched. I will continue to hide, close the curtains and wait. Wait for the next storm to come. Or maybe wishing myself back to colder days? I know, be careful what you wish for, in case it comes true. Maybe we should have kept this in mind when yearning for the sun...