I suck at poetry...but i thought I would take a stab at it

Apr 09, 2008 - 13:57 PM PST

The Smell of Summer

I’m waiting for the smell of
chlorine drenched tangled hair and bare feet
on the dashboard, tasting the fresh air through
the opened window,
burnt rubber when tires spin on joy rides,
twisting, turning, around corners to a party
where I smell stale Budweiser and the crackling pop of bonfires
the smell of laughter and cigarettes, hands clasped on the logs
engaged in the fires warmth

I’m waiting for the smell of
lawn mowers riding over the tall green blades
of grass that nest the worms I smell when
sitting at the lake with a pole in my hand,
catching the smell of scared fish
where I smell the thunderous glow of fireworks
lighting up the passionate night of sex and barbecues

I’m waiting for the smell of
waves crashing against rocks as I watch
my toes disappearing in the smell of hot sand and seagulls
squawking over the smell of spilled food
the smell of moonlit boardwalks,
creaking with each step I take,
as kids on roller-blades pass by

I’m waiting for the smell of summer
but for now I’ll smell the scent of
old books and eager pens in the library,
steaming coffee at midnight with tired eyes
studying for an 8am exam,
rain tapping against the window while it
melts the snow off of the ground that’s
waiting for the smell of lawn mowers, bare feet, worms and bonfires.

I suck at poetry...but i thought I would take a stab at it

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