A hot summer sun
sidles up against my skin.
Mounting tide
along a wide beach.
Each breath a memory
made of light.
And in the night,
no breeze through
open windows.
But still a summer kiss,
and again.
Heat wave memories
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 