There's a nobody
in everybody's pocket
that's been stuffed in
and forgotten

A full bloomed rose
of any color
dethorned , betroved
and begotten

A day in paradice
reserved for one
but somehow has
all been undone

Take a chance on
the life belittled
dumped and stuffed
into someone's pocket

Summer’s in the rearview mirror,
re-experience it at your peril,
it’ll only distract you now, and maybe depress you.

Summer shifts your orbit, from classrooms and remote zooms,
to lollygagging by beaches and snuggling in cozy hotel rooms.

As intense and vital as last summer was - as they all are -
it’s already blurring in memory.

Soon only the memory of sensations will remain,
like the warmth of the breeze and the sun on my skin
and sigh the warmth of a certain boy’s skin on my skin.

Those flashbacks ache, late at night, like phantom limbs.
.
.
Songs for this:
All I Wanna Do by Sheryl Crow

Almost tattered with oil spots and all
when it was gifted I really can't recall
the colors are faded the surface rough
but in my possession is no better stuff.

The smell is old with layers of years
wiped bath water, sweat and tears
rubs me tender whispers sweetly
in love with you please don't leave me.

My old buddy without a name
hugs my skin covers my shame
post the showers it's been my muse
still not useless from years of use.

Why it's so special why can't I leave
the torn old thing holds love I believe
the touch of love that's never really gone
in a parting gift from the father to the son.