Summer Time Slooze
Where are the willow trees now
now that the summer is shrinking in acquiesce
Do they reside in a metaphor
since the storms took away their swaying sighs
Where my little hands yearned to grasp their drooping branches
only to feel the sappy leaves no more
And now do I dare tell my youthful soul
that I have grown past my childhood desires of playing and climbing
Now only to walk and gaze, drive and fail
to let these trees impact me like a wave as they did before
When they cherished the summer
that burned in my youth.
poem by Derek Marcoux
Added by Poetry Lover
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