Summer, with You

My amour, I hear your sultry voice now
in the breeze over the wave-kissed hot sand,
in children's laughter, humming of the fans;
in the soft thud when sun-soaked trees untie
their gifts—cherries, peaches, mangoes, grapes—
and let the love-parched fingers of the ground
breathe them. My amour, I can hear the sound
of your footsteps nearing. But I feel blue:
Wish I could keep you, hold on to you—how
cruel you are! Won't you stay—say you do—
here a little longer this time around?
Or else, Summer, my love, take me with you.
Take me, take me, take me, with you. With you.
With you.

Happy New Year

As the old gust growled and spat in the sand
And packed the shore thick with pellets of ice,
It loathed life, loathed death—hell and paradise—
Hated the lights that emblazoned the land,
Pitied mortals and their joy and salaam,
When celebrating passing of the time.