ELEVEN   
 
You stand  
among the awkward hollyhocks,  
little breasts and big eyes,  
love's machinery not yet working.  
The dandelions trampled   
the tall grass twisting in the wind   
the lizard sulking in the sun.  
 
You stand there  
like some new flower  
beautiful and ready to be picked.  
 
This summer belongs  
to the people of the world  
who want each other.  
The lonely have no right  
to share the summer sun.
 

 
    Rod McKuen.