betty s · Jun 10, 2012
the season

the air picks up
hot. warm.
summer is here to sweat you out of me.
the air picks up
thick. thorough .

I thought you might take me in winter
I thought we might drift in spring.
by fall, we will be so bare
I will reach for you and not even know you are there.

 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment