Summer love

A warm afternoon,
and we cry for yesterday.
Nothing is sinful,
just an impulse
to enchain the heart.
A few disturb the dust
from jasmine leaves.
Ascending to a summer
retreat, with purpose
and hopes of release.
And what of the spring,
white and dead?
Robbed of desire
and spread over
the trees and the sky.
I see hope shimmering
on a woman’s blouse.
And when she is gone,
a brushstroke flash –
and tears flow and mingle  
for joy …

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s