Waiting

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

This one's for you

I hung up the phone last night
And thought I should still be mad
At you
But I wasn’t
I searched deep inside for the remains
Of anger and pain
That you caused
But nothing was there
Only the sweetness of your voice
Floating like one of those addictive tunes
In my mind
Please be good to me
For you have the power
To make me weak