Don't go summer.
I want to hang on to you with my
pink fingernails covered in the sparkle polish.
Waking up to dew, yes DEW! AUTUMN DEW!
on the attic windows is making me a little cranky.
How shall I live without
the Saturday farmers market with the sun on my back,
listening to acoustic guitar being played,
badly?
Barbecues and a sunflower my neighbour is
growing that is now taller than me.
I don't want the rain
and the cold
and day that starts with night.
Don't want closed doors and shivering and
no sounds of musical instruments being practiced.
What will happen to my freckles?
Where will the gulls go
and what will I do not waking to their cry and thinking
I can taste the salt on of the sea on my lips?
Summer,
don't go.
Lie on me like a blanket of gold
and a cup full of strings of your pearls.
