Hot
The grass is so dry, it crunches when you walk,
every where you go, rain is the talk.
One hundred or more, for two weeks now,
I stay in the house, don't even go to town.
This blistering heat, has got to go,
I'm going to welcome, our first snow.
Hurry up Fall, come real fast,
don't know for sure, if I'm going to last.
Hot, Hot, Hot, Hot
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2007
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