Licking lips

of mango’s drips.

The soft hum

from the cicadas drum.

Late nights,

summer brights,

harsh burning

and stark sunlight.

Sandy hair and crochet tops,

new plimsolls and old flip flops.

Denim shorts,

new bikinis,

garden work,

and oversized zuccinis.

Sleepless hot nights,

tired beach days.

Summer storms

wash the sweat away.

Please Mr Grey,

Don’t take my summer away.

Please Mr Grey don’t set my clock,

back to the ‘9 til 5 o’clock’

I don’t want the apple or the trench coat,

I don’t want the black and white world of smoke.

But all this procrastination is making me write silly rhymes,

Maybe I should get back to it and write something more meaningful next time…

And on that more serious note, a comment on literature:

“The tendious part of the mind, so to speak is more developed in winter; the fleshy, in the summer. I should say winter had given the bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and blood” – John Burroughs.



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2 responses to “Summer

  1. liv

    emma, this is amazing! xx

  2. girlhardlyworking

    You are great. I like this. Like. Love. bx

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