Summer Spirit

Summer Spirit

A Poem by Lydia Jamison

She has her headphones on,
Drawn over dark brown locks.
The piano noise runs through through her head,
Down her back,
And courses through her sneakers.
All the while,
Her favorite song plays,
And she picks broken shards of herself
Off of the hot summer pavement.

She knew a boy once,
Nearly a year ago, to the very day.
He went by the name of Carter,
He matched her like a puzzle piece.
Summer came quickly,
And he acted twice as fast
On her heart.
Throwing all of her trust into the wind,
And casting her into a bed,
He turned into a monster
Out of her darkest nightmares.

He became hungry and rabid,
Chewed out her insides and left them
Scattered upon leaves,
Upon green grass and wildflowers,
Beneath a tall oak tree
That had stood for nearly three hundred years.
The child he gave her,
Did not live past three months,
And she wished,
That people could live as long as trees.

Now she walks the forest,
Her feet sticking with scarlet dreams.
She crushes the poppies and wildflowers
Under her sneakers,
And sings the song that
Courses through them.
Letting the night fall,
And her summer spirit go dead
For the second time.

© 2010 Lydia Jamison


Author's Note

Lydia Jamison
This is a fictional narrative. If you don't understand why it doesn't rhyme and why it sounds like a story, you should have payed more attention in English class.

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Reviews

Holy crap I love the comment! I applaud the work! So many thoughtful lines. The sentiment of wanting people to live as long as trees is heartbreaking. The whole final stanza is brilliant, especially the eerie spectacle of singing the song of the crushed wildflowers. Wow! You call this fiction but the inspiration for such words so artistically crafted must be a real inspiration. I'm a fan.

Posted 10 Years Ago



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Added on May 21, 2010
Last Updated on May 21, 2010
Tags: love, hurt, pain, summer, spirit, broken, music, teen, poetry

Author

Lydia Jamison
Lydia Jamison

Huntington Beach, CA



About
Just a teenage girl who loves music and literature. Nothing more to it. more..

Writing