By scqueen
Date: 8 March 2001
Hot
I long for summer days
in the humid South
on Edisto island
amidst the same trees
that reached for me
in my teenage years -
their mossy fingers
so light and airy
stroking my hair
whispering softly
that I'd always return
to the biting mosquitos
melting margaritas
hunting for shark's teeth
and conch shells to display
- a piece of my life
that occurred before you
melds into a suntanned focus
that somehow you
understand
and love
too
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