Modern Poetry in Praise of Summer (Self-creation)

The summer you didn't come.

Scorching sun

You walk in front of me.

Looking forward to your arrival.

Just like the evening after the rain.

In the wind of insects

Welcome all-stars.

Don't come.

Filariasis does not die in July.

I am holding a watermelon.

Sleep for a summer.

In a hurry, the smell of bricks was gently covered up.

Don't come.

I walked in the shade of a tree.

Gaga cobblestone

It broke down all summer.

Step on my bare feet

Rub in the fine soil for a while.

Transpiration of fish and grass in streams.