it is summer and even the grasses
start to wither in the dry heat.

i am broken like
an old iron gate,
i have ornate scrolls and twisting
roses.

in the long, hot hours,
the sea roars softly
and i long for you
wrapped into the hollows of the sun.

little pieces of me gathered into
you scattered like a
blue sky.

little pieces and i know i am only
of fragments and love.