The First Real Summer Day and I'm Stuck in Class

Her summer dress is red as a ripe September apple,
a pink sunset dances upon her cheeks.
I steal glances as she scrawls
rapidly, frantically, a diligent worker bee,
attempting to preserve, like buzzing flies in amber,
the words spewing out of the teacher's mouth.
I can almost see gears spinning in her head.
Perhaps they are what draw the blood to her cheeks
like moths to a flame.
Or maybe it is simply that she is alive.
Meanwhile, the teacher's words hang
lazily in the distance.
The lecture seems to belong to another world
of banality and redundancy.
I can finish my teacher's sentences for him.
So I am content to float away,
her dress transfigured into a magic carpet
upon which I soar through the sky painted upon her cheeks
with bold strokes of fiery pastels,
until an electronic buzz signals the class' end
and forces me back to earth.



This is absolutely beautiful. I love it. :)


Thanks airamannie that means a lot :)

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