One Summer’s Day

I burn, and I drip

In the hot summer sun

No cool air to breeze me

I know I am done

I sit on my stoop

Holding back actions

Peaceful I sit

With no reactions

My skin all aglow

As if like May flowers

All pinkish and red

Cause I sat there for hours

The hot summer night

It did not bring me relief,

It just blocked out the sun,

And not all the grief

I sleep no more

My skin itches like rashes

The burning sensation

There is no relaxing.

The next day has come,

I tingled and burned,

As if a Maine lobster

My skin had turned

It took two weeks to pass,

My skin looked better,

After pealing like snakes,

It was white as doves feathers.

A poem by Garry Ventura