A little disclaimer; I’ve never written poetry, and this started out as a prose piece but accidently fell into the stanzas you see below. Why something as vomit inducing as a poem about the blossoming of summer? I really don’t know.
At least the word blossoming didn’t make it in to the poem.
Summer is here:
White clouds far far away on the horizon
A sky that can just about be called azure
Women sit on park benches during lunch breaks
Eating oil drizzled salads from air tight boxes
In the afternoon they forget and leave sunglasses perched on top their heads
Cyclists wear shorts and three quarter length trousers
All cyclists, not just the couriers
You can see shadows from the buildings, slanting across the road
It’s 23 degrees
It’s hotter than Spain right now
Yeah, but it won’t last? Will it?