Ruth Walters


July


In July I caught a butterfly,
it's peacock markings
and its gentle wings
fluttered
to delight.

In July I saw the flowers bloom,
raising their heads
to the sun
in a strong summer heat,
a maze of colours.

In July I watched you mellow,
red hot flames flickered and died
as did your ardour
against a backdrop of milky clouds
that hid a golden sky.

Submitted: Thursday, September 20, 2012
Edited: Thursday, July 10, 2014

Topic of this poem: Seasons


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Comments about this poem (July by Ruth Walters )

  • Rookie - 339 Points Danny Draper (9/20/2012 5:08:00 PM)

    The summer will, but always dim, in fond memory keep and do not reprove of him. He is but a fickle fellow whose peak is passion and seathing dander, then ephemeral memory, a fading ember. Hold that image of endless warm days and through the winter do not succumb to betrayal or scorn, for the beloved wanderer will return. (Report) Reply

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