But Not To Me Poem by James McLain
But Not To Me
Summer nights because of that,
have turned to hot for me.
Down by the sea,
I wait for peace it only comes in sleep.
Cicadas spread transparent wings,
And cling to all the trees.
Watching all the gears and cogs that
move beneath the glass.
With one deep sigh, I think again,
she must never know.
But the sky,
and moon above is not to me is love.
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/24/2024 8:36:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
