It's like in summer, when your throat is dry your lips draw tight, your lungs refuse the air, it's all you think about. You dread the sky. Your ears are singed. Your lids can't shield the glare. Just so when traveling in a foreign land you find yourself seem stupid, lost, alone, because to eat or shop or understand directions all you do is shrug and groan. Oppressive, daunting, endless, feeling trapped within an age-old nightmare circumstance, to cope seems futile, let alone adapt. But, oh that moment when, by gust or glance, in curse or whisper, whether slurred or sung that soothing breeze! You hear your native tongue. Add a caption INCLEMENCY It's like in summer, when your throat is dry your lips draw tight, your lungs refuse the air, it's all you think about. You dread the sky. Your ears are singed. Your lids can't shield the glare. Just so when traveling in a foreign land you find yourself seem stupid, lost, alone, because to eat or shop or understand directions all you do is shrug and groan. Oppressive, daunting, endless, feeling trapped within an age-old nightmare circumstance, to cope seems futile, let alone adapt. But, oh that moment when, by gust or glance, in curse or whisper, whether slurred or sung that soothing breeze! You hear your native tongue.

 Please support PoetryVisualized.com. Any amount helps | $1 | $5 | $10 | or more |
Thank You!