Draft

July becomes August and suddenly I am noticing how
It is becoming so cold.

How, in the morning, I breeze over the iced coffee in the cooler,
Stopping instead to run my hands over shelves of tea.

How, in the evening, I pause for a minute to put on a sweater
Before you press me down into the wet grass.

How, in bed at night, I try to forget my thoughts
For a moment as I wrap the yellow quilt tight around my body.

How, sometime, long after midnight, the thought of you
Forces me to get up yet again in search of a pair of socks.