Another August
August is upon us,
its sun beats down to melt the pavements
as we dream of rain.
Soft earth is turning hard and cracks,
grass turns to yellow.
The flowers shrivel like old tissue paper,
crinkling at the edges.
Wonderfully relaxed
folk saunter through London parks,
observing ducks,
licking ice creams.
Children play, oblivious to the passing of the year,
as the long school holidays
loom ahead as though they are endless.
These are the days
when thoughts turn to trips abroad,
plane flights, hotel rooms,
morning croissants, towels on sun beds and sea air
but for me August just means
leisurely mornings
with no traffic queues.
Each month of the year
has its very own flavour that lingers on your tongue
like a favorite dish or candy bar.
Sometimes the taste is sour,
sometimes fruity sometimes sweet
but never fails
to spark emotions.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
