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 Image URI: http://mrg.bz/FiQoBd By frankybaby If you enjoyed this poem, read my other work on Hubpages.
"Always be a poet, even in prose." ~ Charles Baudelaire