Sunday, 30 September 2018

Sweet summer

Poppys days are over now
Autumn turns from green to brown
The cold of winter has come

Then breezes whistle wildly
Dead leaves now litter the ground
Skies are grey; snow yet to come

Sun now wears an orange frown
If it deigns to shine at all
From its face no heat does come

We add and subtract those days
Winter's hospitality
Then cuddle up; warmth please come

Whose idea to divide the year?
Beneath smirking fractious sun
Summer, sweet summer, please come

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1 comment:

  1. In your part of the world, summer will soon answer your plea to come. In our part of the world, thank goodness summer is over. It has been brutal.