poem of the day August 3

Sweet days

of summer

can be

hot

wind

gone

blue

with

humid

over

thinking

moments

Somewhere

In the

Dance

of

everyone's

lazy

season

Maybe

some

skin

was flowing

into

dreams

unable

to

Tell

Who

was

the

one

left

standing

in

The sand

at  the

Moment

when

The

Eyes

Of

summer

find

the

true

lies

of

you