I’ll come in August,
He declares
Each sound reflected
In a rain pool
Of endless summer
Words get trapped
In maze of thoughts
Blended with dreams
Diluted quickly
By the real
June’s proving busy
She reflects
Trying to mask
The notes of fear that July
Will last forever
Drops of moist
On fingertips
Tension within
Knowing that August ends too soon
And then?
Listening to Pretty Wings by Maxwell
Waiting
Posted by
Jules
at
8:52 AM
Labels:
August,
endless summer,
July,
June,
missing you,
phone call,
poetry,
waiting
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
2 comments:
Darling, this is fantastic. I stumbled across your blog and found myself captivated. It's glorious. Please visit my personal blog sometime;
Afternoon Tea:
http://www.madisonreece.blogspot.com
Dear, dear. Thank you so much for your kind words. It means so much to me. I adore you.
Post a Comment