Indian summer : a poem

Sunlight above me 
Heat with little breeze
A girk likes heat so she
Came forward and told me
I like Indian summer


Ice-cream you scream but not me
Scorching in this heat
Dry land dehydrated hand
Look over me
And she still says I like Indian summer
What a bummer!


Oh my dear ice cream you just fell upon me
Oh you hell sunlight and now I scream! Aaghr!
What I do now?


Can she tell me ? Why she like Indian summer?
Aaghr!
What a bummer?
She still likes Indian summer!




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