A breeze from the Lake

[earlymorningnoises]

A breeze from the lake washes by my face
a hundred miles away I slave.
I can smell your summer skin tanned dark brown,
Banana Boat and Coppertone.

This hard winter is breaking my bones,
I think of yours to warm my own.
On that perfect day so long ago,
younger and softer, full of hope.

[newsclippings]

This is cool, very fluid and puts the reader right where you want them. I have nothing bad to say about this poem, just that I identify with it so dearly. I miss warmth.

-Sigh-

[earlymorningnoises]

Winter definitely drags me down. I get sick of writing about it all the time, but its the only thing I can conjure.