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Poetry

To next year’s summer

[vc_row type=”in_container” full_screen_row_position=”middle” scene_position=”center” text_color=”dark” text_align=”left” overlay_strength=”0.3″ shape_divider_position=”bottom” bg_image_animation=”none”][vc_column column_padding=”no-extra-padding” column_padding_position=”all” background_color_opacity=”1″ background_hover_color_opacity=”1″ column_link_target=”_self” column_shadow=”none” column_border_radius=”none” width=”1/1″ tablet_width_inherit=”default” tablet_text_alignment=”default” phone_text_alignment=”default” column_border_width=”none” column_border_style=”solid” bg_image_animation=”none”][vc_column_text]we wait all year for summer
and forget how it feels
to be hit in the face with humidity
and almost die from boredom
without anyone telling us how
to occupy our time
so we fill it with
lovers and adventures
while the days keep
passing and all we’re
left with is a bunch of
random memories
and a melancholia for
next year’s summer.

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