with curls coiled as tight as concealed thoughts of her last lover's infidelity,
she knows her summer would soon grow weary.
she walks along a beach of lost love, unsure if she should have brought her own sand because, she knows these footprints all too well.
she misses it as if fall were approaching and summer had already avoided confessing his transgressions by leaving.
she's seen it before.
she often dives into the deep end of her own pool of assumptions, and just before drowning,
his temporary reassurance be the lifeguard to rescue her.
