
Here's my silly little poem based on this image; I'd love to see what you could come up with in the comments!
Ruffled Feathers against a Soft Gray Gravel Path
She lights his cigarette one last time.
"I must take flight." She declares.
"Head south." he says and takes a drag.
She leaves him on the exhale of smoke, a sendoff.
Under his breathe he coos, "it's warmer there."
He knows because he has seen her.
Sang with her.
Wherever she goes,
She is the Summer.
-WarpedCircus 2019
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