Steamin

The sun is so hot,
Not a cloud in the sky.
Like water boiling in a pot.
This is not how I want to die.
I place my cold drink
Up to my neck.
My skin's turning pink
As I lye on this deck.
My body drenched with sweat,
How much more can I take?
Every inch of me is wet,
As I stay out here and bake.
It's good, It's bad.
Sunshine, all the rays.
For me its not a fad
No matter what they say!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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