Sunday Summer Day
The wind blows
gossamer wings
fly past my eyes
in the blinding
summer sun
and terry cloth
damp beneath
my skin.
It only takes
a moment
to melt a
margarita green
puddle into my
plastic cup.
The lemon yellow
slide and tattered
canopy wave bleary
before my cloudless
eyes. In minutes
I'm back inside
the coolness
of home.
Angela Minard 2008©
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1 Comments:
What a wonderful poem!!!!
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