August blues

I look at a lonely fading it flower.
He drank all the water and will soon the flour.
This sammer went by was this is ower.
August subsided and  days getting slover.

Do you hear the wind?
He tries to make rhythms.
He wants to sing,
About  flower  withers.

I understand that I think  you in vain.
I know you dont call again.
This is a flower has now  made that plain.
This is how blues is born when is love ends.


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