Summer's Edge
He’s warm,
Like a good hangover.
His heart pulses like raging thunder.
My mind develops, pupils widening.
His song envelopes my heart,
Like steam rising off a misty river.
Lilly pads pop against a still, gray surface.
Harmonicas and violins string out our love,
Like summer Christmas lights.
My senses race like a graffiti-sprayed train.
Carpet against skin,
He’s alive, and so am I.
Burning together,
In the inferno of our love.
Tying our imperfections together,
As if they were part of a denim quilt.
Dusty air, like an antique store,
We bask in each others company.
Waiting for summer.
By: Brandi Deacon
2010
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