Come with me and feel summer
you said, and took my hand.
We stood in the symphonic downpour,
growing older with each strain.

The lightening unfurled,
stretching Mercury’s fingers into the night.
Messages of liberation pealed.
The air was heavy with humidity,
but a million percussions thundered.
Each conquered drop fell to the pavement,
leaving the winds to sing in their wake.

Come with me and smell summer
you said, and we looked at the sky.
Each passing cloud transformed
into dreams we could touch.

The hill was clothed in silk,
spun into a green garment strewn with gold
as each bud stretched heavenward.
Plucked and fashioned into a crown
or a token, or a hope.
All seemed woven for this one moment
and a hundred more like it.

Come with me and be my summer
you said, and we chased the moon.
Our feet left imprints on the stars;
the satellites could not make out our words.


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