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Summer

This summer I made a bonfire of my loves.
Beneath the pregnant clouds and still air
Of the sweltering nights, as the breeze died,
My remembrances of us together - yellow
Like the oleander, thespesia and laburnum -
I let them burn, and lend themselves to the ash.
They scatter as the rising wind whistles, playing
Chinese whispers with the fresh-leaved trees;
The dust has a new smell: rain at last, rain at last!

This is one half of a tapestry poem with Shernaz Wadia, first published at RateMyLiterature.com and republished at tapestrypoetry.webs.com.

View the full tapestry here.

What is tapestry poetry?

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