In July I caught a butterfly,
it's peacock markings
and its gentle wings
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.
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Comments about this poem (July by Ruth Walters )
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