Something happened in August
Sitting on this wood bench, with eyes fixed in the water, worries diminishes
Eighth days into the eighth month
A walk around nature,
Barefoot in green grass
Right hand clutched a bushflower
Reminiscing on times
Matching dots to the future
A slight little smile escapes lip
A little giggle here and there
Then a pause
Thought digress —
Looking at the scars
The scars from pity
I was sure I was done
I was done with pity party
I’m a painter, conceptual painter
How I keep painting
Painting a perfect picture
From a time in the future
Those pictures are placed
Big brown beautiful Walls
To lock and secrete memories
In the same walls
Lies a big portrait
some holes in the wall
These holes had had to be fixed
Holes caused by moles
Ones let in to break the walls
Trying to fill up the holes
Even through despair
Truth everything was made in pair
I believe this can’t devoid repair
When you put your hands
On mine to conjure —
I know it barely rains in August
But I don’t mind causing the rain to come
I have labored and the walls are fixed
I want the rain to soothe my strain
And let its wash provoke my calm
My head had had to be on reticent mode
For I want my gears held on high
For my hand to grab my bows fiercely
To fight and win, break and build
After this time,
I will tell you what happened in August
