Care to get baked? A poem for comment and critique?

J

John D

New member
Baked

My maples wilt
In the Summer heat
Leaves yellowed
Or curling
In bitter defeat

Weeds and vines twist
Scrabbling thin fingers
Chip away
At mortar
Still the heat lingers

No welcome here
Doors and windows closed
AC blasts
Each his sad
Quarantine imposed

Come bravely here to visit me
I’ll offer you some sweet iced tea.
 
tis' but dawn to break
swelter do we in light
for soon our skin to bake
fine to join in your invite
 
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