S(U) Mmer Poem by James Enoch

The summer, hot, oozing with joy.
I long for the winter..
so it's normal to be a cold, lost, little boy.

Far and few in between..
there are those days of healing rays,
where not a shadow, or a crack goes unseen.
Where..each blade of grass grows at the same pace as I,
Where I am just one little thing, the same as a fly.
Where I am, not me, just an ordinary man,
the grain in my face, no different from the grain in the sand.

The summer, hot, but for too long, everything would burn.
I wish you could stay..
and winter never returned.