Heatwave

Sweat drips down my spine,
My searing body cannot cool.
How could my friend the gentle sun
Have suddenly turned so cruel?

Nothing seems important when
A volcano is your home.
Lava’s heat leads to lethargy—
Your castle you no longer roam.

Looking outside the window
The apocalyptic horror becomes quite clear.
An eerie quiet coats the  streets—
There are no children, there is no cheer.

My gaming streak will be lost,
It doesn’t matter anyhow.
The backyard is a death zone, too.
I just don’t want to play right now.

Do not talk of summer fun,
Do not expect much more.
I feel ninety years old, not nine today—
A lifeless blob on the floor.