Dry Heat
Teresa Ann Frazee
Midday, when the summer yellow light has bleached the land
Young lovers stroll where the garden flowers kiss their feet
Under nature´s prismatic skylight of floating dreams
Their bare limbs, wrapped in a weaving blanket of dry heat
Blessed with the grace of the boundless landscape of heaven
They walked arm and arm up the hill as chapel bells chimed
Fragrant incense hung there in the sweet enamored air
High above the illuminated clouds as they climbed
And so as the white wedding doves cooed in their soft ears
They read their vows at the altar where the virtuous pray
He turned to place a burning kiss on his bride to be
And thus another rehearsal for their wedding day
Growing impatient with the impulses of their hearts
Because their loving vows had not a preacher to hear
These young lovers along the sunny edge of town
Were not of legal age and forced to wait another year