Gold Mine, poem, Poetry

Indian Summer



Indian Summer

The sweltering Summer waxed and waned

Colors faded by the sun

The air so still the sky was paned,

In blue, as clear as a pool bottom,

The green grass dry, in want of drink,

Leaves lilting gold around the rim,

The days so hot I could barely think,

Of anything but him,

And long then for the Winterโ€™s chill,

His arms around me strong,

Safely wrapped within his warmth,

Waiting out the storm.



from, Gold Mine