Volume Four, Issue 2

September Musing

Rokaya Chaarani

Summer is fading to the background
The highlight of the year
The master of my childhood fears

A bummer
Past summers burned all my feathers
Pawned my serenity and my cool weather
Maybe I’m just cursed

My thoughts spurt
All over the notepad pages
Turning into poetic flavors
Art is my savior
From summer’s failures

I remember
How the hurt child couldn’t discern
The beauty of baby colors
The treachery of innocent archers

Now the flavor
Of sweet dark figs dangles
On the strings of the crisp memory
The waver of the little heart wakens
The amort monsters in secrecy

Summer is fading to nothingness
The cold is waving from beyond
The grave of hotness and sadness
Alan Jackson’s summertime blues

Has always made sense
It has, in fact,
Heightened the mess
Of my crestfallen season
I just needed a reason

To forgive summer
The child is all grown up now
Summer is a winter now
Won’t lapse into the sullens now
This is my vow.

Rokaya Chaarani: "I am a poet and a university student from Morocco."

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