JUNE DAYS.

to put my essence in bottle divine, 

you must withdraw from 

magics so subtle.

the smell of imminent 

New England weather,

changing so often

yet remaining the same.

roasted coffee beans

ground into a captive audience,

pressed into an envious nothing.

ink from pens to stain pastels,

scrubs and shirts and jeans alike,

a stamp of some existence.

brown mud in Nor'easter summers,

tracked on shoes

one pretends to afford.

fire blazing leaves

dripping off of branches

for sleepy peepers to admire.

warm mugs, cold smiles

strange accents from people

who don't really want to stay.

cities with faux pride

so they don't have to remember

the life they never lived.

to drink this in

is to find me by dirtied shores

of love and hate of the finestkind.

Reviews

[Lorry]

I do like a poem with its own aroma. It lends a helping hand to placing your day to day from the first scents you wake to, coffee, right through to the heat and dried mud of your weather.
Here in Scotland dry anything is rare, but it does lead you from the obligatory coffee scent to the pine forest freshness of outdoors and all the greenery from grass to moss to leaves.
Your words smell terrific! 😃

[Neha agrawal]

The line "to drink this in is to find me" absolutely perfect.Poem wrapped in honesty. Just beautiful.

[Phantom Heart]

Excellent play on words. Captivating and a great read.