Polarwave
Summer slid down the piste like a shark
Hot on its trail came the cardigans,
then the wool mix socks
a ragged scarf about the neck
finally, the duvet was transferred to the sofa
that's when we knew it - Polarwave.
The blackbirds didn't see it coming
at night they would perch in the trees
as if it were still October
pining for a St Tropez sun
come morning, their Jurassic feet were glued
by frozen dew, formed hard about the twigs
like jaws of glass
The moon wore her halo at night without apology
while the sun seemed out of his depth; ill at ease
and we walked fairy footsteps outside
or slipped and bruised ourselves colourful
until, recklessly, we left the duvet on the bed
made love without our socks on
put the scarf to better use.
I hope that's helped to cool you down. Thanks for reading. Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
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