Antoinette

Summer love.

And as usual I find

that the summer does not lift. 

No, really it's just a hot mass

of warm, heavy air constructing a rift. 

A division between myself and 

Sanity. Oh, everyone else thinks there's some shift. 

Some improvement on the mood, whatever

Else they can be bothered to gift. 

Not saying that summer has come but it's 

On it's way and that's just up-lift-

-Ing. 

Comments1

  • Tony36

    Well written and expressed



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.