LP (6th March 1954 / London, England)

A Summer Poem

You are the burnt map of Summer
black-edged with lost words
that make the heat a blanket

full of stale-wind sweat,
lips dripping warm syllables
caught between dead smiles;

the first rain so distant,
drought turning into itself;
you walked away over brown grass,

the Spanish grass.

User Rating: 4,6 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 8

Comments (8)

Verily, a good depiction of the summer. Loved reading it
Great write.Enjoyed reading it very much
a good poem about summer nicely presented
It was a pleasure reading this poem.
beauty of summer is well crafted
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