7. Summer

You must be a long way from home
When the season you’re dying for
Becomes a stranger who’ll kill you
Beware the ruthless summer of urban Cebu.
When the city becomes a boiling plague
Every day is the dirtiest, blandest sizzling plate
A meal of hot dust and more concrete
No wonder the beaches are your only reprieve
That desperation for nature and a balance between suntan and breeze
Too bad you no longer have any vacation leave.

© 2015 Vivien Marie Lopez


3 thoughts on “7. Summer

Go. Moan. Scream. Tell me if you like it. Make some noise.

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