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A Summer Past
22:25 May 19 2009
Times Read: 566
What is there twixt yourself and me?
Love? Hope? Three hundred miles?
There's the horizon and naught else to see:
We frown since we cannot see our smiles.
I've spent two months short of a year,
Waiting to sweep you off of your feet.
Four with your voice within my ear,
Whispering words, loving and sweet.
We met and danced at the last ball
Then weeks we laughed and cried and talked
As summer slowly waned to fall
You lay at home whilst streets I walked.
You lay, my head in hand, in bed
Whilst I held yours in autumn night
We'd speak until our phones went dead
Or till the sun gave morning light.
But. The word that turns the situation faux
Appears so frequently within my mind
But this, but that, but, I don't know;
And soon, 'tis all that I can find.
Three months have gone since we spoke last
Of summer plans and separate lives
Our love has fled us much too fast
And now it shrivels, soon to die.
For months you'd been my one addiction
But our paths may never cross again
Yet I will not dismiss my hopes as fiction
Aurevoir, my love, my dear, my friend.
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