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Summertime Son


My son: Brighter in the summertime, but easier to lose, as the moisture in the humid air makes you slip through my fingers. Such hopes I had for you to take over the family business. Was it not enough? I guess you saw a different light. I guess your move was justified. The weather is better where you are now. The birds sing every morning when the sun rises. It is less humid and things are not as easily lost in the moisture of the air.
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Comments (1)

JKLindsey
This poem was actually inspired by a movie I once saw. It is a little vague, and veered from that point of inspiration, but I am very happy with the final product. Enjoy!

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