The Transition

This just can’t be summer love

It must be summer lust,

 with all of my good intentions

this can’t be the last of us. 

The heat is slowly dying

My sensitive skin fried

Its about time to pick up my pride

and realized this is old and dried

time to revitalize with open eyes.

For tomorrow I spy a cozy fall tryst.

It started with a kiss

and under jackets through cool mist

we will fall in love.