• Jeanine McNulty

Sweet Summer Solitude

The piercing golden fringe rises above the gently rolling hills.

Ruby red sun-kissed cheeks,

soles stained with rich muddy soil.

Blisters hardened at the fingertips like paper mache,

memories of the enchanting garden that once was weeds.

Perched on a stump at the very top,

the sun fades into the city,

leaving fiery red and purple rays

to bounce through windows of an empty room.

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