Image: pexels.com
That Summer
As summer progressed
the buffel grass yellowed and the wattle dried,
tinder to a flame.
Our lemon tree shrivelled its fruit
preserving its moisture,
as dust drifted in from far paddocks,
signs of a long dry ahead.
The unrelenting sun burnt into the tin roof
and we sweated every move.
That summer
we dared to start a fire
a tempest like no other.
We could barely speak,
nothing would extinguish it,
pure combustion.
That summer we started a fire,
a tempest like no other kindled our hearts
your hair like flames,
eyes alight,
my lips burned.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
parallax 
Gosh! I love this! Good one:)
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Thank you Stella, appreciate your thoughts.
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Hot passion! 🙂
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Absolutely 🙂
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Beautifully executed love poem! Quite passionate.
There is a custom among Southern US poets and song writers to tie nature into a mood. Such as — if you’re feeling sad — to begin a poem by describing how desolate the winter foliage is, or how bleak the weather. When it’s done a certain way, it’s not just a comparison — it’s an implication that nature feels the same way you do.
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I should clarify. People compare nature to their moods around the world, but the Southern twist on that theme, as I understand it, is to state or imply that nature feels the way you do for perhaps the same reasons.
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Yes
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Thank you for that Paul
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Oh wow! Passion and torment… !
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Thanks
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Loved Reading this!
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Oh my! This is red hot. Love it.
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Many thanks, encouraged
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You are welcome.
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Excellent.
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Many thanks
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Wow amazing use of words – beautiful
>
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thank you so much Lyn
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ah the fire of love …
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Yes (just before the hose of reality 🙂 )
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lol 😉
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😉
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