Another throwback poem, something like a Dream Deferred (Langston Hughes).
As the summer heat burns, and the bright orange rays lurks, my passion for your love turns into yearning perspiration.
The moments linger,
shorts and tees worn,
beach va-cas with long mall strolls fulfill the books of thrills.
Jack Frost creeps his way, to invade, this special season to cast cold clouds. Laughs and giggles, with warmth . . .
transcends to chills up and down the spine. Tight muscles and runny mucus nose. Body begging for the slightest touch from Ra. The passion is terminated by the breeze of dead ice, and perspiration builds up like snow piles on the walk paths. No longer does the summer heat burn, nor does my passion for your love.
Everything has its season, and yours had came and left like August Treason.
Be Entertained. Be Enlightened. Be loved. ✌