Poetry: S is for Summer

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Mosquitos eat away at our flesh 

while bats flit around above

we try and count the colors of the 

setting sky 

but lose count as the sunset melts the colors together 

from deep orange to 

periwinkle 

to dusted blue 

guitar chords hover over

our heads like the 

white ash from the fire 

as the stars begin to dance 

beneath the milky moon

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