elusive summer rests in faces soaked in tan,
it is the sun, which lurks around, sprays its glowing glee.
but when these warm half-drowsy streets will wake from cold again,
what will we be?
epitome of elegance and light,
the image of our never-ending bond.
and when there comes eternal winter strife,
will we have strength to see the right and wrong?
the sun will find its way, streets will return
to usual flow of life, well-trodden path.
but when there’ll be no leaves to glow and churn,
will we preserve it,
will we make it last?
I am saying “it” by meaning so much more,
I feel the sun — so do I feel its end.
it slides across my frail, my quaking door,
the melting words of disappearing chant.
the subtle beauty of the falling mist,
the thinnest line of trust and of despair.
the sun takes turn and I expect you joining him in this,
—
to leave someone is like to watch the sun withdraw from air.
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