The Summer Of 79

You can feel

The summer lurking

In the air spun

By the fan.

The moon’s full

With not a star

To tease,

And not a cloud

To chase.

But we’re here,

At the balcony

On the second floor

With roses and marigold

And pots of chilies,

Drenched and calm,

With our feet

In buckets of ice

And lollies to go with,

As our wrinkled lips

Gush about

The summer of ‘79.

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