Summer

In summer the discontent
Rises with the mercury
The grievances of the past
Shimmer before the eyes
Like the heat-stoked mirages
All who can be blamed are blamed
For the present still without little
The past had wanted and hoped for
The comparisons make the day hotter
Than it is, for what we do not have
Suddenly seems the only thing worth having
The power supply is off again
The trees too have quarreled with the breeze
With all the doors and windows open
Only the yellow haze of the afternoon seeps in
The mind has run itself out
It's time for the sun to expend its rage.