A Summer’s Death

Labor Day, already? Another summer, gone. Another chance, blown. More proof of what is already known.
I am farther and farther away.
Last summer and “never again.” Or so, I said. Might as well be dead. If I don’t stop living…in my head.
I spread myself thin, searching for me.
Where is the “stop” button on time? When did it speed up on me? What is it I refuse to see? Who is the person I cannot be?
I am too close, too close for comfort.
Oh, the beaches never seen. The water never tread. Yes, might as well be dead. When even my skin, has not been kissed by red.
I assert my right to refuse to give up, and yet…
The nights are cooler, now. The shortened days a sign. There is very little time. To make things right for next summer.
I could disappear by then.
Sherry McGuinn is a longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.
Thank you for reading. For more of my ramblings:
And:
