Summer Departed like a Fallen Scoop of Peach Ice Cream, Licked up by a Rabid Dog from The Dirty Pavement.
Beaming with black sunglasses
Summer wandered over
wearing denim hot pants
and a sunflower yellow bikini top.
You gently wrapped your hands
around her bronzed hips,
as she pressed her chest against yours
and planted a bittersweet kiss on your lips.
It was hard to see her go -
but she assured you that she’d return
and you knew that she would -
just as you knew she’d be coming back
for a long time after you were gone too.
Smiling, Summer then peeled herself
from you and slowly stepped back -
brushing your palm with her fingers
as she disappeared to the
rustling of leaves.
Her sisters were already on their way -
they were colder, grittier, more complex
and all that made Summer truly matter.
- © Gwil James Thomas 2021
Gwil James Thomas is a novelist, poet and inept musician. He lives in his hometown of Bristol, England, but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. His two most recent poetry chapbooks are Lonesome Wholesome Soup (Holy & Intoxicated Publications) and Under The Same Moon (Between Shadows Press) a split with the poet Tohm Bakelas. He plans to one day build a house, amongst other things.
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