When illness stole the Summer.
I was distracted when it came in, what with moving house.
When Easter’s sun puddled chocolate; it seeped through the foil.
Life exhausted my bones, each sinew ached for rest, but on I’d toil.
Pleased to be in this lovely space where history would join with our taste, we’d make a home.
He’d gazed a face like this before. His eyes focused, periwinkle blue.
That doctor, one Summers day … he knew.
When sun and storms made gardens green, The well was clear and ducks shared our stream. I missed those days and slept it seems.
Through Summer, the missed paddles and golden dreams.
That summer will be remembered … or not.
As the one, I slept away.
The summer of
Days that was
The End Of Summer for me.
Now Autumn calls, I hope not to miss the golden leaves the morning mists.
A bike to peddle the flab away on crisp voluptuous days like today.
I hope you enjoyed my freeform write, leave a word, I hope you might.