to the summer we lost

our summer is now like the sound of music
fading away too quickly
without warning;
like a wine becoming bitter
without the sweetness we tasted
with the lips years ago;
like childhood, so ephemeral,
departing with innocence;
like a rushing water leaping
into the unknown, never
to gather again

it is like a pile of shining lead
now rusted by dews
that extended the arms of welcome;
like the stained cups of coffee
we once cherished on tables,
watching moon-beams;
like the faces of our laughter
now replaced by threadbare
handkerchiefs of tears;
like the promises of eternity we made,
now making ways for exits
and words of goodbyes

our summer is a lady
that did not grow grey
in grace, with us
like when we first met;
she’s now a dying wind,
worn by rags of pains
lined with memories of thorns
and wasted years spent
chasing after many nights
filled with reckless dreams,
with nothing but spaces
of faces escaping from our albums

(C) 2015, innocence silas


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