Skip to main content

Last of July




Last of July

Last of July,
summer slippin’ away.
Past the middle of my Life;
today feels that way.

Tomorrow’s yesterday.
More is left behind,
than what lies ahead.
Losing count of the days.


The day is hot, sun setting;
cool breeze on the rise.
Feel the sting of lost days,
burning my eyes.

The past has passed,
is past.
Hope is far away,
hope has gone to stay.

Last of July,
summer slippin’ away.
Sun goin’ down,
Tomorrow soon today.


© 2013 ajwrites57


If you enjoyed this poem, read my other work on Hubpages.





Comments

  1. I do really like this poem. I don't know how it feels to be in the middle of my life, since I'm still young, but we've all been through many cycles of the seasons, and I can feel the sadness of passed time reading this.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Aaron Browder, for you compliment! The passage of time often goes unnoticed, but when one reflects on how much time has passed, a certain sadness does ensue. Thanks again! :o)

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

old friends

old friends searched online for former friends surprised to see untimely ends friends, their spouses, moms and dads sad to see the deaths they had the inexorable tick and tock of time, leads us all to fields, sublime through twisting, turning hands of fate, soon we'll all be known as "late" years roll on, time is passed no one knows how long it lasts each life is counted out by days as friends we oft go separate ways friend's faces show the lines of age as each one turns his separate page fools fleeting time waits for no man eighty years our lives may span so count your days with special care for who knows how, who knows where our beating hearts will one day stop find old friends before they drop © 2014 ajwrites57 A Long ❤ ❤ ❤ Image adapted:  By SDRandCo via morguefile.com

can't wait

again

again if i could walk those golden streets again and sing those glad olden songs so sweet again if i could feel those pounding jungle beats again and touch those rumbling thronging beasts again if i could dance those daring double steps again and twirl the girls 'round their swinging hips again if I could swim those clear summer lakes again and float lazily where the cool current takes again if i could sit in playful grade-school seats again and draw where pencil and yellow paper meets again if i could run the asphalt baseball fields again and slap the rubber balls off car windshields again if i could fold daily newspaper sheets again in pre-dawn drowsiness on city streets again if i could gaily play in hot summer rains again and watch the water run into sewer-drains again if i could tackle tough and rumble players again and run through football teams like a laser again if i could frolic in frigid cold and icy snow again and not fear near fro...