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August Wind
I walk the streets
The warm breeze runs through my hair
Like your fingers

The lights are dim on the skyscrapers
People walk in chaotic serpentine paths
Avoiding pockets of heat

Water drips from the sky
As air conditioners empty out 
Upon the sidewalk below

Circling towards my home
Contemplating, reflecting, thinking.
A smile widens my horizon

Her blue eyes are on my mind
The soft skin I yearn for
Its the August Wind that brings her to me.

 2006 David Greg Harth