Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Poem: August Tradition

Come, my friend,
away from the clatter and clutter of life.
Come join me in the quiet of a summer night
with a white smile of moon sailing above.

Bring nothing but yourself.
Leave behind all that weighs upon you.
Take my hand as we climb the high hill
through weary, rustling weeds and grass,
breathing the scent of Summer's final days.
.
On the open hilltop, in a warm breeze,
we will lie down upon my tattered quilt
and watch the lights arc and fall across
the infinite darkness which surrounds.

There is nowhere I would rather be
than under those stars, in the August air,
with you.

















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