Saturday, April 12, 2008

summer

When it's forty degrees outside,
and everything is hot and sticky,
and a dry spell is cast upon my throat,

I crave for mounds of colored ice on crunchy frozen cones;
I crave for blasts of autumn air upon my face;
I crave for you, and the chills I feel every time.

When it's forty degrees outside,
and my eyesight is slowed and blurred,
and drops of sweat play freely on my skin,

I crave for millions of raindrops populating a dark sky;
I crave for frosted numbness upon my lips;
I crave for you, and the chills I feel every time.

When it's forty degrees outside,
and the air is heavy and on fire,
and the sun teases with its burning whips,

I crave for goosebumps breaking free from my skin;
I crave for sudden chills flurrying up my spine;
I crave for you, and the things I feel every time.


*** This is basically rule- free, so I don't know if it can be considered a poem. I just thought I'd write something to describe how hot it gets around here. Other than that, the text above really does not hold any personal equivalence as of the present. Haha. 0 comment(s)