A Poem I Wrote in Creative Writing Class

Remembering August

The pants travel
from city to city,
continent to continent,
connecting those who have
seen better days, and
who have lived sixteen summers
together
until this one.
I pause and look up
from the page,
connecting the Traveling Pants
to my own life,
reminiscing of past
scalding August afternoons, and
long distance phone calls
to missed companions vacationing
on warm beaches on the
opposite side of the country,
and scorching days sitting
alone,
staring into the sun, waiting
for August to end.