Short Sunbonnets Poems

At the end of August we locked the gate.
The flowers have all withered that used to stand straight.
We put our summer dreams away
  and the pool looks deserted where we used to play.

At the end of August the warm winds have blown.
Our sunbonnets are in the attic and the sandbox is alone.
Everything is put away before the cold winds blow.
I wonder if the ladybugs have anywhere to go.


For:  Brian Strand's Late August Contest...

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