Summer Hats
Straw and colors,
widened brims,
lightweight fabric,
and patterned seams.
Summer's here,
but not far behind,
I think I dropped
my hopes and dreams.
Cornered inside
curtained rooms
my summer hats lean
upon the brooms.
They gather dust,
grow old and pale,
while waiting somewhere
is my heart so stale.
Summer's here,
but I won't go out;
not while summer's here
with forgotten clout.
posted by Penguin @ 6:36 PM
3 Thoughts
3 Comments:
Why are they no more posts? Isn't there post fall or the impending winter? Don't those feelings dig under your skin like a chipped splinter? What does to hinder the words which evoke emotion and burst to flow like lava and make me feel at home in a Spanish casa
-_- Did you not understand this one: http://penguinaluva.blogspot.com/2014/04/words.html#comment-form ?
It's basically saying that writing is a form of torturing myself to me.
Yea I see that especially in the last stanza. that's a shame because you do write remarkably well. I do hope you find a medium that doesn't inflict pain on you.
and like I said before, I do hope you are ok
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