Like a lilac breeze, the summer flows,
Whispers over blue vinca vines, and brings to the nose,
Escape from the noxious, worldly rigmarole,
It calls like Calypsono, never go.
Cyan laps at the roots, sunken into the sand,
Sun-blessed leaves lie languid, unplanned,
The heat drunk brown bee rests a minute offhand,
The pulse of life slows in this wonderland.
A fresh squeezed lemon, some sugar, some ice,
A hammock to lie in, enjoying paradise,
In the peace of a dream, the minds left to device,
Proud summerother seasons dont suffice.
Soft sun laps against the highlighter orange of the chickens legs,
Whispering breezes lift the spice of freshly sharpened pencil from the sliced grass,
Aimless clouds drawl across the torn paper of the summer sky,
Panting dogs padded paws kick up eraser crumbs from the scattered gravel.
But I can only watch this from a window in my room,
Penning English homework on a Sunday afternoon.
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