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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Softly, on a fine summer day.....

The air is still and thick with dusky sounds and smells.
In the distance,
drums play slowly.
And I wonder.

At day's end when birds pick meals from the fragrant grass,
does it matter
That I loved you?
This I wonder.

When the trees hum and fireflies dance their lustful jig,
clearly now, a
fife plays lowly.
So I question.

Did I know you when the sun soared high above us,
and the bees shared
their sweet Nectar?
Help me recall

In this dewy solitude against the familiar durge
that wisked you off,
my thoughts strain.
So help me see

How the day cooled and we watched the fruit ripen as one,
then rested well
a single heart.
I hear the beat.

Or do I sit alone in this sunset and hear
the dead march?
Was It always
keeping the pace?

Twice now I've cut roses to deaden the sound,
and as I close
my eyes one last time,
the petals soften the night air,
and the music plays sweetly, softly now,
as I dream of you smiling again
on a fine summer day.
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