Poetry Time!

Ode To August

August is here,
It's hot outside.
If I sunbathed nude,
I'd have a red backside.

Summer is waning,
My flowers are tired.
They truly are wishing
A gardener had been hired.

School will be starting
Without me, once again;
I'll have no more students
To get under my skin.

But August is special
Because when it is done -
I'll be one year older -
I'll be fifty-one!