listen to the wind
restless, tepid, tossed free
the babble of summer parties
floats by
I
throw myself like a fishing line
into darkness and back, back
in time to back-lane bins and jasmine
scented evenings
encasing friends
warm drunkeness
bottoms dimpled by
milk crate imprints and the tiny
gravel of old cement
crumbing bare feet
swished aside
long cotton skirts
eyes glance up
that window high
mine
that window high
eyes glance up
long cotton skirts
swished aside
crumbing bare feet
gravel of old cement
milk crate imprints and tiny
bottoms dimpled by
warm drunkenness
encasing friends
scented evenings
in time to back-lane bins and jasmine
into darkness and back, back
throw myself like a fishing line
I
float by
the babble of summer parties
restless, tepid, tossed free
listen to the wind
clairevetica 
Nicely penned.
Check this out.
https://tenaciousbeliever07.wordpress.com/2018/06/19/i-dont-want-to-fall-in-love/
ok, just this once, I’ll let the shameless self-promo go through 😉 I usually check out people’s blogs who comment anyway.
Very evocative poem, Claire. I like it.
See you —
Neil S.
Thank-you, I enjoyed this one 🙂
Such a fun palindromic write – who couldn’t love a poem with ‘bottoms dimpled’ either by ‘milk crates’ or ‘warm drunkeness’ – clever whichever way you look at it (them). Bravo.
Ha ha – indeed! Thankyou x
I feel this so hard. What a beautiful slice of evocative nostalgia ❤
Thankyou, i get very homesick/ for the past in summer!