Summer Will Come

Fingertips on phone screens,

Cheeks against glass.

"New normal" routines,

When will this pass?


No kisses, just waving

From six feet away.

It's touch that we're craving

And permission to play.


But as daytime grows longer

And Spring rushes past,

We edge closer and closer

To reuniting at last.


We'll feel heat on our faces

And hear insects that hum,

Return to 'our' places,

My love, Summer Will Come.


By Gavin Jewkes

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