June days are harbingers most sacrosanct;
Humid whispers streaming temperate bliss,
Balming hurts through pomp and purpose ...
Call me crazy, but I could never tire
Of such beautiful composition deposited
right outside my doorstep...
Her sparkle is so effortless and refined;
And, of course, all the things
'SUMMER'
Tenders quite intrepidly...
Thus, toss me the keys
To month number-six
On our world calendar;
An uncontested beauty ...
One you'd fall for, over and over.
Shout praise, should such
ELEGANCE
Grace your knowing gaze;
( What a tragedy, I think,
If it should not).
poem written by L.P.-G. / 2018
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