Rehearsal For Summer

The way I could look into your eyes always amazed me, I was never any good at that before, I think I will be again now. My eyes emptied ten thousand times since, It is good to know they have no bottom. I was always so much taller when I held your hand. Yet I willingly strived to grow, and I reached your level toward the end. I took solace in a withered and crooked form, It was uncomfortable and did not suit me. For months I found your hair, your scent in an empty drawer, Tried to hate you, myself, things you said. I couldn't do it, nothing worked, It conquers all, I am not a man of hate. The bruised puffs of cotton are revealing the blue, A flame haired light is beckoning warmth, I can reach this now for I know my worth. I learned it from the rain.