Glower4
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Sun stole it from me
the morning had given it as gift
a few dew drops on the glade
and a pipe load of fresh cool air
as the day advanced
rays grew straighter
like arrows on a hunt
glowing with fire
they burnt holes
on the poor Earth
dew was long dried
so did the small
ponds and reservoirs
parching throats
and souls
to screams;
save me was the cry
no one in sight
only moon
could be banked upon
but then it came in
a stifled darkness
with no air
billowing around!
Summer is my least favorite season of the year!