I see you, with your back turned to the grass
your head is already in the stars
you whisper, summer is back
I do not want to tell you
that I already know, I have reached
summer's hand on the back of my shoulders
the fly's buzz in my back-garden has told me
a soft air of wine and a long lull in the night-time
a dance with broken toes on the roof
summer is all about open;
looser shirts, smiles, shorter tempers to the direction of the sun
your hand finding mine, is the ultimate reason
for summer to return.
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