Dear June

A June bug crawls

At the fork of our meeting;

The summer breeze caresses

The touching of our finger tips.

A blooming pink rose the scent of

Your aftershave and my cologne;

A forgotten sweater envelops

Hugs and adoration of another morrow.

As the petals of our lips widen,

Then close—

Condensation

Forms—

A droplet of a love summer sweet,

It beckons for a drink in this heat,

To raise a glass and together—

Sing.