To what purpose, August, do you return?
Beauty is not enough, I’ve noticed
It has died in your heat, I know
The climax of summer is false


I prefer in-between seasons,
Spring & Autumn, so much more soul!
Of little leaves, and old blooms
I know what I know, Summer is a vacancy


Cactus of the Earth, Eaten mangoes
Buried dreams, empty cups
It’s not enough, that yearly you do this to me
Promise me flowers and leave me with


An empty feeling in my gut
Weedy and insecure Sunsets
Ragged flame of burnt-out hours
Blessed heat, but not bright enough


For my blood, liberation in perishing
Every bed so narrow, every friend departed
I have forgotten how the frogs must sound
The summer silence is little solace

For a life caught beneath savage beauty
Timid inequality, squalor, nights without dreams.

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      • um.. i dont know how to explain exactly, since a poem can be interpreted in so many ways.. I have considered sorrow and emptiness, which i seem to carry everyday. But i would love to know the state of mind in which you have written this! 😀

      • Indeed I succumb to a certain futility of summer, something of an anti-climax about the promises of festivity that never seem to fully materialize.

      • Oh wow. Thanks for explaining. You know sometime it amazes me how often poets like you think of the little things that might not have significance in the view of many eyes out there. However, again.. I loved the poem very much..

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