The flowers’ faces droop,
Their colours drip into the soil,
The bees ignore them,
The butterflies shudder by,
The grass is overgrown and wild,
Daisies are strangled by clover gangs,
Patches are yellow; patches are dry —
This is summer’s last lullaby.

She rocks the bench
Back and forth,
Endlessly throughout the night,
Trembling, all the birds take flight,
The sky is washed out; a dreary grey,
The clouds have suffocated the sun,
Black raindrops hang in the sky —
Sounding summer’s last lullaby.

The pools dry up,
The lakes brood in swampy despair,
The fishes swim deep from
The ripply surface’s cry,
The frogs they flee;
Glistening with slimy fear,
From the looming terror they shy —
Far from summer’s last lullaby.

The oceans roil and roar,
The current banging the drums of war,
Seaweed snakes its way along the shore,
Shells crumble; too battered to fight,
In the sand they wither,
The rock pools wail and drown,
The crabs scuttle with all their might —
Retreating from summer’s last lullaby.

The sky bleeds a million colours,
The sand upturns its weathered face
And watches, eyes wet with regret,
The beaches heave with people,
Lovers lay draped in each other’s arms,
They watch, kiss, and sigh,
They don’t hear the scornful cries
Of summer’s last lullaby.

 

Line count: 40

 

//Picture Copyright to Heather Lukins//