Lush greens grip Missouri’s summers.
Dripping with the humidity and rain,
Your green gripped my giving heart.
I gently gripped the summer’s back.

The fingers of my plains must have slipped,
Slipped through the fair fields of the summer.
You dragged on and on to no complaint of me.
Sleeping warmth cradled on me, clinging.

The green leaves that showcased you,
Began falling as my tears of desperation.
Paying no mind your gripping mint greens
gripped my state as the days faded cold.