Write a poem about the summer heat.

There’s people out here, Playing Spider Man, With the concrete, Contorted, At the ends of alleys, On the corners, In the doorways, Sometimes I ask how they are, Often their 8 eyes can’t see, But I can see them, And their 8 eyes are like a telescope, To the center of the mind, And the soul, One I hope they are trying to find, Beneath it all.

I walk down the sidewalks, Looking at the gardens, That sit in front of people’s homes, Decoration at its most natural, I love when people leave it chaotic, And carefree, I think the plants prefer it, To live, Like me, Uniformed lawns are such a waste, I prefer to see flowers, Trees and bushes, Vegetables growing strong, Amongst rocks, Strategically placed, I love to see a trellis with a vine outlining the walk, To the front door, Where people knock, A fountain is nice, Amongst evergreens, When I walk down the sidewalks, I see them, Someone else’s gardens, And I smile, They are such beautiful scenes.