Will Vigar

a writer of sorts

“Summer”

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Crisp air

Less definite now

those brittle breaths

have passed for

another year

 

summer air

its humid mass

presses down

on limbs

unwanted

 

no movement

until autumn

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This entry was posted on February 27, 2016 by in Poem, Poetry, Will Vigar and tagged , , , , .

Shortlink

https://wp.me/s7hxIP-summer

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