The whirring blades
of an old ceiling fan
brings soothing night air
to my easy chair...
and thoughts of them.
In moonlit fields
of the mind,
two young lovers,
in a blur of emotions
trying to cool down
the heat of passion.
Warm memories,
other cool comforts,
come smiling back
from younger days;
other hot summers.
Carolyn Brunelle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hot-summers/
