Gone

15 Aug

The sun scorches my eyes,
butterflies scatter,
lilacs half in bloom,
sea arriving disco blue;
time, train wheels chug endlessly on,
drawing me away,
further from you.

One day everything will be over,
not just this holiday.
Will I feel brighter then?
Will the sun be more constant –
blissfully unchanging;
eternally antidotal
against unfaithful summers
too soon gone.

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