By in Art

Hot head

I think the heat might be getting to my head,

I am in a daze as I sit on my bed,

The degrees are far too high,

How can the birds bear to fly?

I would be like Icarus up there,

It would be hard to deny.

My wax would melt,

I would hit the ground,

Panting and puffing,

Would be the only sound.

What is happening here?

Why have we been thrust into the oven?

Why are the degrees rising up?

By the dozen?

I cannot wait for the evening,

Now that is my time,

When I can relax,

Cool down,

As the sinking sun shines.

Just enough light,

To highlight the world about,

But not too much!

That, I could do without.

Then what of tomorrow?

More heat or cool?

Perhaps some thunder?

Or heavy rain fall.

Either of the latter,

Or both together,

Is fine with me,

More my kind of weather.

Image created with -

Origionally posted, by myself, here -

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