These Summer Elegy poems are examples of Elegy poems about Summer. These are the best examples of Summer Elegy poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
The leaves had changed to rainbow hues and soon the trees were bare
And though you’re gone, I know, deep down, that you are always there
And while my heart is broken and my life’s become a trial
I’ll never lose the memory of the summer in your smile.
Snowflakes ride across the sky on keen edged winter winds.
The sun and moon light day and night, two dimly glowing twins
And ice-cased wires adorn the roads for mile on frozen mile
While I stay warm relaxing in the summer in your smile.
The world lies buried ‘neath a shroud of newly fallen snow
That rolls around and piles in drifts when frigid breezes blow,
But I know the chill can’t touch me with its icy fingers while
I spend my days basking in the summer in your smile.
Soon spring will be upon us, then summer’s hot and humid days
And the sunny days will all be blurred behind a teary haze,
But I’ll go on and do my best to make my life worthwhile
And live within the golden light from the summer in your smile.
As the summer breeze blows through the air
I can feel your presence, I know you are there
As the summer breeze blows across the sea
I can feel your presence, it overwhelms me
As the summer breeze blows around the earth
I can feel your presence as I did at your birth
As the summer breeze blows through the trees
I can feel your presence from my head to my knees
As the summer breeze blows across my face
I can feel your presence though
You're in another place
As the summer breeze blows half past seven
I can feel your presence even though you're in Heaven
As the summer breeze blows and leaves entangle
I can feel your presence my sweet little Angel
As the summer breeze blows the tears now start
I can feel your presence within my heart
Copyright © 1998 Shari E Davis
He spent the golden years in his
garden growing vegetables like weeds.
With a Midas-like touch, instead of
gold, everything turned green.
Spring, summer and autumn, something
about growing brought him great joy.
Perhaps he saw in the garden's changing
seasons a semblance of life others did not:
Childhood as spring when like young
shoots he first grew,
Work and family as summer when his
crop began to yield,
Retirement as autumn when the fruits
of his labour were consumed.
And winter... well winter was his time
to rest and reflect on his crop.
He died in the winter of his being,
content with his harvest.