fourth summer

Georgia sweet.

With a twang of heat.

Like a Mickey's spicy marg.

And the cucumber rum from the jazz bar.

I've been here,

In the Big Apple.

With the sweet being undertoned.

The heat bein' worse than back home. 

I've been here too long.

Half a decade this winter.

Feelin' like I lived it all this past week in my bed.

Like the words I wrote in my first year, 

I still dream of flying far.

I will end up everywhere, carrying on.

Yet, like many nights,

I'm sitting on a patio at a bar.

Being tempted by a Mickey's spicy marg,

That I know will be Georgia sweet.

With a twang of heat.

-Verdure