of mango’s drips.
The soft hum
from the cicadas drum.
and stark sunlight.
Sandy hair and crochet tops,
new plimsolls and old flip flops.
and oversized zuccinis.
Sleepless hot nights,
tired beach days.
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.