Hot Dreams

It is so hot because the summer sun shines,
Thank you for reading I hope it rhymes.
I wish I could peel off my skin to cool down,
This is silly so please don’t frown.

I wish it was cooler my brain is boiling,
Words float about but non sense forming.
Why isn’t there a fan for when there is no breeze,
A chest of ideas in my brain I keep but lost the keys.

When it was cold I had to wear a hat,
Started to write when I wish I could chat.
My hat is a roller rolling a grassy pitch,
Used to rolling out ideas I wish I had ditched.

Things dissolve in summer sweat when the hair is waxed,
So I take a different stand and then my lobes are taxed.
It becomes heavy and the hair fall like autumn leaves,
Surprised you have read this far ignoring all my peeves.

The weather is never perfect my patience always shot,
I am indebted for your patience over the lines I have wrought.
And my head always aches or my belly or back,
Pens dwell in my drawer by no means I am on track.

The sweat drawing white lines on my shirt,
Writing in the shade in the sun I am always curt.
The cool of the AC makes lines worse,
And in the heat I write lines which are terse.

Cold lunch not my cup of tea but what can I do,
Throwing tantrums out because the ink’s like poo.
Hot lunch packs a punch or a faceful of sweat,
Coming to the end hope I did nothing to upset.

In the summer months I wish for the fruit of labour fast,
And now I am running out of lines, so this must be my last.

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