Summer's Gone and Songs are Fleeting

This just sort of happened and it sounds a lot like music.

I cut a thousand paper boats for you

and threw them in the river

In hope that they would get to you somehow.

Far across that anxious river

stirring, pulling up our blood

to surface here and now.

 

I see the world in pastel colors

only in the day,

and quietly keep to myself

when summer fades away.

For in the dark I found your heart,

have heard it beating, still,

though you've set out for destiny

upon a summer's hill.

 

I have no past, I have no pain,

no story to be told,

but when the wind blows north, my dear,

you'll know I'm growing old.

Below, below, behold our stories

written and untold.

And when you find they have all gone

you'll know I'm growing old.

 

Warmer than the winter, still,

I've finally grown old.

 

 

 

Author's Note