Summer Mood - Mad Hatter
The birds had returned some time ago,
From whence it happened my love did flow.
Cupid's bow had long-since retired,
And Summer's warmth bequeathed no desires.
Bitter days stretched on without Nightingale tune;
Days I remembered to search for you
Bore clement tedium in conjunction with blues.
If you were the saint, I was made your shoes.
Always close, always warm, as Winter did we forlorn.
This mountain sings of freedom and the trees lean in to whisper;
Tell me as Summer drew near,
Neither did I grow cold without you,
Nor become mad as a hatter,
As you were lead in the brim of fashionable leather,
All things fall out of fashion, no matter the weather.
This day Fall arrived prematurely,
And the Winter posthumously forbade,
But nothing could change this reversal
Of Winter closeness falling into Summer's tepid rehearsal.
The weather called for a change of intimacy
For our combined heat, I cannot bear
The sun's bitter rays wreath the world in red hues,
I need a new hat to return me to my habitual blues.
We're all mad in the end,
No matter which end we choose.
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