This New Summer

Things came sitting
On time' s wing,
Noiselessly stole the poetry of
The summer afternoons,
Stole the aloneness and the lingering
Thoughts that often stretched
From nowhere to nowhere
And got pregnant with songs.

There was a search that
Had neither end nor intermission,
A joy waited expectantly to jump into
The humid moments of unbearable Loneliness, 

It waited without a hint
Of anyone' s arrival or appearance.

The evenings came, dull,warm and not
So cheerless, yet spoke of hope,
That hanged unto dreams of
The real and the unreal.

All that is left of the summer
Is webs of entangled
Conversations, words that get lost in the air afterwards, and a weird
Barrenness, that has come
To stay here, forever.