by scott from jail

Summer this year rolled in late
This is the first day, maybe
Of the slow, lethargic luxe of sleeping with the windows open

Hearing birds chatter back and forth,
Marching clouds plastered happily
on a blue sky

checkmarked for rain
poems typed casually, not minding
crawling toward some little nonchalance

Not minding Iraq, the rest
with all that woe
woe woe

A client came by yesterday
now 23 with eight medals for valiant conduct of
fire fights, various sorts

"Iraq saved my life" he said
And looked for ways
to hide from past ways...

I stared enviously at his
toned body, strong arms, ready fate
Life will go on, even if summer starts too cold.

Copyright © 2011 - scott from jail
Published: 8/11/11   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem