Praying for sweet melodies,

Bluer skies, warmer winds,

So I can finally wear my red dress,

Prance across the parks,

With heels so high I feel I could,

Reach up and touch the sky.

The best months out of twelve,

Where the ice cream tastes softer,

And there is nothing much to do,

But smile at the cerulean sky,

Look at the Sun reflecting on the beach,

White jewels blind me and I’m dazed,

Feeling the sand with my bare feet,

The night lasts longer, flames glowing,

We’re all happy for once, I see you across,

Smiling at me, beckoning me to paradise.

Instead of the hesitation I had before,

I take your hand, fly away, up, up above.



3 thoughts on “TWELVE

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