Sleep off the summertime,
I tell you, sweet, like doll-face children in the dusty streets
of some southern French village, where the earth is the colour of melon
and lemons are sweet as the sumertimes
sleep off those early sunrises,
I tell you now, summer's gone, gone. She ran away
wicked in her bluesy love affair with the autumn rain
whose petal touches were so irresistible.
Sleep off all those long summer nights, all of them
I pray you, I told you, she's all wrong for you.
(28th October 2013)
YOU ARE READING
Blue Moon
Poetry"Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes." - Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There (2012 - 2014)
