© 06-14-2013, All Rights Reserved
On summer moors the sea waves splash for years
the shadows draw upon the walls festoons
unspoken verse, conceived on silent piers,
the advent of our loneliness attunes.
That day of June remained our only feast
and minds' ascension to the astral reign,
blooms' multitude of fragrances released,
a purple thistle on the field and rain.
Remember me when lone stars shine and laugh,
hands held because of June's reminding call,
we celebrate this night on lonely wharf
and acanthine of solitude's dance hall.
...On every tenth of June my eyes embrace,
above the summer moors, your lines of face.
© 06-14-2013, G.V. All rights reserved