Warm August Day

September 16, 2016
By RosePratt BRONZE, Metamora, Michigan
RosePratt BRONZE, Metamora, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

An instrument I cannot name

Sings into my ear

This instrument is famous

For everyone can hear

 

Someone close is talking

Babbling you could say

But it is not my conversation

So I kindly walked away

 

A woman in blue spoke

From her home way up high

But I spoke not her language

So I turned away my eyes

 

Now I had two choices

And I took the longer route

Though short longer it seemed

As I stepped it grew dark out

 

A runner ran past

Dressed all in brown

I stayed still and quiet

But still off he bound

 

I found myself a store

Where they sold only fruit

I took some in my hand

And went off on my route

 

Here the lights came on

As I drew closer to home

While insects nicked at my skin

And spoke in voices like drones

 

A walk is quite relaxing

More so I would say

When it's the woods you're walking in

On a warm August day



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