The summer’s high rise,
Brings the moon’s low tides.
The land starving from the drought,
Every step on the thin ice, another doubt.
The thundering clouds, heavy in the skies,
Inside their darkness, truth lies.
With summer drawing to a close,
I feel an energy approaching,
That no-one knows.
With summer’s warmth gone,
We must find a place to belong.
With the cold months ahead,
We must fight the demons in our head.
Winter’s cold embrace wrapping around us all,
Watching as the strongest kingdoms fall.
Morning’s night’s dance,
Holding all in its sparkling trance
Broken only by the silence of the dawn.
In the deepest days, of the darkest nights,
People spend hours with lovers across candle lights.
Those without such fortune
Cuddle with our false hope of finding the warmth,
Fighting, struggling so hard, from day-to-day, month-to-month.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.