Summer Gone


I wrote this sixteen years ago. It was one of my first poems. Although I loved poetry, I had been too intimidated to try to write any. My fear of rhyming. My terror of rhyming. So that year, I began writing poetry with no concern for rhyme. Just thoughts, feelings. This was written in October, and I must have been mourning the loss of yet another summer.

The sleep of eternity

Whispers the love

Of a thousand summers.

Time moans and is gone.

Cry for the elaborate vision

We call life.