03 October 2010

The End of Summer

A cool breeze blows through our open window, bouncing the blinds and ruffling the sheets on the bed where I sit. I shiver and pull the sheets higher on my waist.

He says, "That right there was the end of summer."
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1 comment:

Scott Morris said...

That has got to be the best prose poem ever.

December 06, 2010 10:26 PM

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