Summer

For her warmth, I cannot so easily hide
Behind the veil of these dark clothes.

Her presence always a brief moment,
Fleeting time that begs for more.

And her gaze would make my face
Crimson as is her obvious theme.

Leaving me to wither, crack, and peel
When I finally find myself in her absence.

I greet her early each morning
Only to find her gone so much sooner by day's end.

Now, dead trees like dead whispers
Offer no comfort, given up their cause in her wake.

When will winter come? The cool abandon,
Where life stands frozen awaiting her return.

When will Summer shine her fire's light,
That the beauty of this world springs from.