Saturday, September 3, 2011

Summer Standstill

Hot even as the wind blows she sits unable,
Hot tears roll down.
Her hands rest at ten and two,
Windows down the smell of asphalt and the coming rain brush against her face.
Hands move towards the keys only to hesitate,
Coil back to her lap as if stung.
Held frozen she sits,
Body still and mind racing, unable to go home.

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