Time is what we call the brutal miracle that makes us grow old. Certain months of time remind us of falling in love, burying a loved one, or moving into a new house. This week, as we say goodbye to July, reflect on what August has meant to your life. Begin your poem with your childhood. Then describe how August has changed you and your perception of the world.
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Miss Irreplaceable replied on Permalink
Reflections of Eight
Every Eighth month is Hot
Sticky for a time
Bubble gum and broken fire hydrants
Cooling Moments
Happy Hot Sticky Climates
Longing for the promise of a cooler ninth month
Not as sticky
Not as Icky but they can be lumped
So lets fast forward to 10
When the Fall begins
I must admit I long now for eight
For seven wasn't that great
Seven was filled with heatbreak
and
A Half Disclosure Mistake
I now long for Eight
I will reflect on it and although sticky
Declare to make it better
Wiser than seven
Reflections of Eight..