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Summer died.

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By DamilolaPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Summer died.
Photo by Jorge Fernández Salas on Unsplash

Summer died and began to rot with some maggots on its prey

I was home and locked in, with a fabric on my face

I could see the glistening sky with red berries on hot days

He was afar miles away, I couldn’t reach him in the race

***

Long days flowery dresses but we dared not go out to play

They were taking their last breaths, with some oxygen as an aid

Sparse streets and no life on a glorious summer day

So I begged the numbing winter, it’ll be better to invade

***

Glasses of wine in my nude painting the beauty of the lake

I abstract my summer and pretend, I enjoy its useless stay

the bright sun was a waste and so I forced myself to bake

But even the brightness and the sweetness, could not stop a gloomy day

***

Summer died but it might come back, this year we dare to pray

But the holes the maggots left behind, we can never wash away.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Damilola

poet, wanderer, writer.

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