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Poem

O I resent the heat of summer, 
on still days silent the sun would sit. 
As if the gates of hell are ajar, 
where great mighty fires are lit. 
Hard the earths surface shall bake, 
with no boredom nor pause nor break.


Across the horizon the mighty sun shall set 
and into oblivion its rays will sink, 
reddish its colours reflect, 
no longer golden nor vibrant nor pink. 
Icy refreshments fail to quench my fire, 
nor will any abundance of drink.


Under the summer skies I lay bewildered 
as gleaming stars garnish the nights, 
bright the celestial beauty lingers 
in every language poetry recites. 
Too far away my thoughts wander 
but sweet dreams bring me delight.


Swiftly darkness fades away 
as night bids the moon farewell, 
glorious the eye of heaven shall rise, 
on living minds casting a spell. 
Roses do weep on hot summer mornings forever wishing in shades they dwell.


Saleh Ben Saleh

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