August is a seasonal jiff of repentance,
Of found and lost memories,
That a withering heat of July would feel.
With the consummation of summer vanishing,
It distorts the vision of otherwise swelled up
And desiccated framework of time.

August is the timely fulfillment of love.
Passions that must have been buried
In the lap of June, subtly intervened.
Words that finally managed to subdue the goodbyes.
To celebrate the victory, for which
The year was posthumously waiting.


August is a stop sign of promises made.
Of See You Later gone wrong.
Of the many misled mumbles from a lover’s lip,
For the scent of departure persists in the air
Brewed with the hollow flavor of adherence.
Forever seems another name for fare you well.


August is a central theme of silence.
Where butterflies in your stomach may not rhyme
With the sailboat, another carries in his lungs.
So, it’s better not to drown out,
In the deadlocked reality.
And not be judged by its tangibles.


August is an enduring span of bidding adieu.
That was intensifying every minute like a wound,
In the middle of the night.
When your final words are declared in the darkness,
The stars and moon being the only witnesses.
A second chance would save a soul. Maybe.


August is the incognito month of sweet intents,
The legacy of which isn’t recognized until December
When it would be nothing but a dusky realm
Like all the past months.
It isn’t welcomed in the most lovely way,
But it surely nestles the deepest corners of one’s soul.


August comes as easy as a sleep.
And fades away as swiftly as any composite dream.



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