She moves like the Sunday of Summer
Quietly through the night and cool
Walking as if the daily blaze
Disrobes itself in the shade
And in the darkest nude
Radiates a serene sensual
What is it aura and gentle breeze
And lowers my temperature
Readying me for sleep.
August is a weekend coming to an end
A season burning with subtle rage
And slowly breathing urgency
Closing her star of fire
Letting our tanned skin
Settle our pale debts
Balancing the extremes
The brightest of sunny days
Drawing to a fiery close.
Copyright © 2022 Charles Edward York
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