late summer afternoon
haze almost swallows me whole
early crickets and late birds
vie for role of killer sound
eyes flattened shut
are pried open to cyan color trees with a silver sky
and the breeze tries to soothe
but only fans the open flames
want threatens to consume
daydreaming my nightmares away
until the fantastic remains
echoes of touch and taste
threaten to overwhelm
pushing me to forget the now
and exist only in the shadow of embraces
long ago lost
The Word Rummager 
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