We have a heat wave going on
It’s like a furnace here
When walking through my little garden
I hardly hold it dear
The flowers, and leaves are curling up
The roses bloom, but dried
The grass is just like burned out hay
Oh everything is fried
The lakes are turning into mud
The water is all gone
It’s so damned hot even the birds
Refuse to sing their songs
People moaning all the time
Most cannot stand the heat
But those that do sit out in it
Their flesh burned like cooked meat.
Me, I sit here lazy like
With air conditioner on
And write these poems in the cool
Until the heat is gone.
16 December 2013 @ 1055hrs.