Summertime
An ill wind blew December in
Allowing pause for meditation
And memories of less torrid times
In sweeter and much warmer climes
Than our more recent past had known
But which I had been shown
when once upon a time I’d loved you.
No,
So many times I’d loved you
Had been in love with you
And stopped
And then
Had loved you yet again
But now it seems the time has come
For me to face the truth you knew
That you
And I
Don’t blend.
And so have stuttered to our end.
Copyright © Red Omara | Year Posted 2017
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