Nights of Yore

I remember nights like this one.
In the middle of July,
the buzz of a thunderstorm
hanging in the distance
the warm humid air filling your lungs
as if you were somewhere tropical.
The impending darkness of dusk
bringing with it an endless night
full of possibilities.
The way laughter echoes
down empty streets.
The way cigarettes waft on the breeze
and glow orange through the dark.
The way the it feels
to lie on burnt grass
and watch the stars.
To feel so invincible.
To be so sure these days would last.