There's a lull blanketing the lot,
vacancy consuming the once lively scattering
of girls in pale skirts strolling beneath street lamps,
boys in thin cotton tee's sending smirks over shoulders,
shopping cart clatter,
squeaking door handles
and hollow laughter.  
It's all retreated with the sunlight,
turned to low mumblings,
distant car doors,
crunched gravel growing quieter,
silently slinking away.  

All of the promises there wasn't enough time to keep.  

Trees sway within ranges of headlights,
casting slivers of shadow from across the highway.  
It's all so hollow.  
The clock tolls closer to morning
and it's clear there will be nothing here,
in this lot,
tonight.  

The first breaths of September begin to exhale.