July

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Resting beneath the

silken sky, white with veiling vapor,

I wished to return to summer.

 

I ached for the sea to murmur

its wisdom across the shore,

for my feet to leap at the touch

of flaxen sand and crystalline waves.

 

If only my eyes could again be scintillated

with the sun encapsulated ten times over

in my joyous gaze.

 

The invigoration of January’s gusts

cannot compare to the breath of

jubilant July, sweeping the fields

of Ashlawn in sighing waves.

 

My limbs would yield to the verdant tides.

 

Oh, to rest my head upon your chest,

to let my soul sleep and awaken

in the light you poured

down my nimble back.