That day in August

Cool breeze swaying through
the summer trees, weaving
between branches and leaves,
myriad lustrous rays; beaming
on the ground below.
That day in august, oh why couldn’t it last.

Joyous singing and gleeful
chortle of young voices dancing
through windy skies,
the chatter of tiny feet
against earthy soil,
playing in the cheerful field.
That day in august, oh why couldn’t it last.

Sausages, bacon, burgers,
roasting in the smoking heat,
family, friends claim
the barbequed grub,
scent of freshly cut grass
surrounding the summer sun,
That day in august, oh why couldn’t it last

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed