Poetry, Postaday

Relinquish

I see the sun,
the rays beat down
on black pavement
like the middle of July
in September.
I don’t dream of bitter winds
that come after,
as the sun convinces us completely
that it’s not ready
to relinquish its hold to the soil.
I sit here, warm in its embrace,
not believing that icy fingers
wait for me.
Summer will be long forgotten
when winter’s here, as distant as
the winter’s embrace
It, too, will go eventually.

via The Daily Prompt: focused

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