Eleana

I long for the summertime.

I wait, without patience
For a time when my skin
Is again dark and dirty.

What is more pleasuring
Than warmth
Enveloping one’s entire body
And the trees breathing
The same hot air that you do?

Little – very little.

The sun has left us.
She is gone;
and my body
aches because of this.

What from darkness is made?
Little – very little.

I long for the summertime.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s