Charles Bukowski

the ladies of summer

the ladies of summer will die like the rose
and the lie
 
the ladies of summer will love
so long as the price is not
forever
 
the ladies of summer
might love anybody;
they might even love you
as long as summer
lasts
 
yet winter will come to them
too
 
white snow and
cold freezing
and faces so ugly
that even death
will turn away—
wince—
before taking them.
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