Towards the end of every May
I put my winter boots away.
Knowing that summer's coming soon
(And no-one wears their boots in June).
I get my sandals out instead
And paint my toenails cherry red
And wait for summer to resume.
(For I cannot wear my boots in June.)
Last night, the rain came down in buckets.
At last I flipped. And thought - oh, f*** it -
I'm hardly asking for the moon!
( I've put my boots back on. In June.)
