The frogs croak and
the wind whips by.
It is a nice summer evening to spend
with you.
Sometimes we drive and
we do not go anywhere,
like the rest of the tired people-
running, running, running.

But for now the crickets chirp and
the music on the radio is quiet.
A white noise that is safe
to lose yourself in.
We are together,
in this moment,
and life has spared us time to
experience the universe,
and the wonder of being alive.

You weave your fingers through mine,
and while we do not slot together
quite like puzzle pieces,
it is comfortable.

For this pocket of time,
I have one hand interlaced with yours,
and my other hand steering the both of us
gently away from our worries.

for this pocket of time,
we simply exist.

life is too busy. We need to remind ourselves to run away to big highways surrounded by wheatfields sometimes.
note-i had a mini argument in the replies. deleted it because it was ugly. left the OG comment because its funny

runs rivers down
the planes of my face
drip dropping
to the asphalt
and sizzling there;

I wonder if it's true
that I could fry an egg
on the tarry New York sidewalk
melting under my feet

I think I'd like to try
I think I'd also prefer to be that egg
in the cool air of aisle 9
where someone will pick it up
and take it home
and make pancakes
with the person they love

Insta: @nakedwriting

Maybe I'll get a
Fan to put on my shoulder
Like my own parrot

There are ten see through bags of my
fallen leafs by the curb,
Ready for pick-up.
They were so very fetching
Waiting for the wind to pluck them.
Water beads the interior
Like summer's tears.
I hear the stop and start
Of the collection truck coming.
Pleased and proud I am
Of my ten bags.

sophia 2d

my love was like a delicate rose
that blossomed so purely
during the summer solstice.
you’d spot it so easily in any garden,
that you’d think it was ordinary.
as the days went by,
it grew more and more
unlike every other that loses petals quickly
even before the sun rises.
its blossoming red coloured petals
never flinched, nor dropped,
not even an inch.
every year it blooms beautifully
just like the both of us,
you are my summer rose.

consider the sunflower
          with her black eye
                    watching the bees buzz and dance

with a sort of eclectic wonder  
          in the way she lazily sways with the breeze
                    as though she was floating

and, always, with an eagerness to listen
          to the song-like preaching of the sun
                    wrapped up in the curled grass

or the way she hangs her head
          at the early signs of dusk
                    when the sunlight goes swimming off into the horizon

while the moonlight stretches its black robes over the field
          as she settles into a melancholy
                    waiting for the dawn to return.

One foot over another, another after another
I could feel the coolness against my feet
Under my weight the grains compress
As I walk, following an unknown beat
A look behind caught sight of the wave
Erasing my tracks on the summer beach
Once, I left my mark on your heart
But I guess you’ve erased it when we part

I lay down on my back, breathing in the sea breeze
A heart empty, my mind drifting
Like a raft alone in the vast ocean
Drifting without an end in sight
It’s cool and calm, and I could hear the ocean speak

Like an autumn leaf falling to the ground
Reddish brown hues all around
If you didn’t look closely you wouldn’t know
Which leaf had last fallen
When I had disappeared into the crowd

I used to like falling, mindless falling into the arms of strangers
Dangling my heart for others to see, pouring my thoughts out of me
I guess the game was too easy
And now I keep the words in me

Pretty words for myself to read
A loneliness like a single fir tree
Withstanding winter alone in the falling snow
If you didn’t look closely you wouldn’t know
Where it was under the blanket of snow


The chopping hum and deep vibrato
Of the rolling mowing machine
Almost drowns out the beautiful song
The little birdies sing
I could be annoyed
I could be disturbed
But the monotonous noise reminds me
That when I wake
A blissful summer
Inevitably awaits me.

I still see the trees
and feel the wind that
gently shakes the leaves
and the big buildings
when the light is fading
and the evening
is more than a promise
that people going back home
like ghosts of June
can't keep even though
Milano is looking great
and you come to me
and say hello pumpkin
can we live in this park
forever and eat melon.

Thinking of someone, a long time ago, another city, and I'm not sure if it happened that way or it is just my imagination.
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