Beijing Summer
By Armando Ortiz
She is the song that reminds him of other songs, the first scent of a blooming rose.
He closes his eyes and remembers the purple plums they ate under the tree, beside the man-made lake.
Her heat and the sun’s rays made that hazy summer bearable.
His head lay on her thighs and her sandalwood fingers felt its contours.
Those eyes open, while sitting on a chair on the balcony, and traffic passes bye.
The melody that they heard with the scents that were felt are now only traces, but that mind still carries the moment within.
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