Summer set grass crunching underfoot Leaves disguised as autumn Let up by the thunderous heat To smell is painful But eucalyptus soothes And my skin meets the breeze With a hopeful longing Only to find an uncomfortable touch
The nastalgia of this feeling Lives on in me deep Waiting for the whistful doctor of the afternoon Salt sprayed No time to be No place to travel a comfortable discomfort as such
I long for the lostlessness Few coins limiting the day But expanding the pursuit of simple pleasure Time with friends Potent and lengthy Only to diminish with age As to responsibility we clutch
Driven by purpose Meaning well but lostlessness less More coin but more wanting Less time but more wasted Spiralling towards something Driven to find our way back To where we might Truly feel Summer set grass Crunching underfoot.
Cameron Tayor 