August swung with beauty.

At a world so tired and torn.

Warm winds beat back the rains.

And I slept in past the morn.

I was dreaming about something.

That was lodged inside my head.

Now I don’t know what that was.

So I think of you instead.

Nhien brings me finer things.

Like grace and smiles warm.

Like, no August that I remember.

She’s my shelter from the storm.