Summer is over in my side of the world, and in two weeks I will be on a daunting new adventure. I've spent the last month wondering how it will go--so much so that I haven't done anything but think about it. As usual, writing about it is the only cathartic way I have to get over my anxiety.
Summer's last breath
Ends in sky-tears
That kiss the soil
In its vain effort to console the earth.
I try to catch vapour
And remember hazy memories made
In careless, spontaneous moments.
But my hands
Are open system jars,
And the wind coaxes vapour
From my fingertips.
From double paned windows
As memory of its existence fades.
I hope to call it back,
To hear its gurgling familiarity
Tickle my ears again
But I cannot remember its name.