Last of the soft fruits,
these blooms are redder, fatter,
skins splitting sticky on a palm.
Drew my tongue along a lifeline,
caught what was left beaded
between the creases of flesh.
Half a gasp at the tingling,
spring still weaving magic
as the trees catch fire.
Time trick of seasons blurring,
like unexpected heat
under the winter sun.
Summer has left the door outside open,
is drinking mulled wine on the patio,
leaving petals by her feet one by one.
Too focused on the sun’s slow set to notice
exchanging looks and Night’s arrival
its cloak across its shoulders slipping,
gold stars sewn like seeds on soil,
for Summer’s goose-pricked shoulders
brass tanned and shivering.
There were a few options for last night’s DVerse Poets ‘Poetics’ Prompt. I chose to write a poem by taking one of the lines provided (Summer is leaving too exchanging its gold for brass) and using each word as the starting word for each line of my own poem. The last two lines were the trickiest to finalise, but after a bit of playing around I managed to come up with a piece that I was happy enough to post.
Carol J Forrester 
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