One Day in the Summer

One day

in the summer

I knew it would come.

The heat, the season,

the roses,

all the parts thereof

and what joys,

what joys are displayed?


But when that time comes,

as surely those blooms unfurl

I ask those questions.

How do I even begin, or end this,

to feel sufficiently

the beautiful now, of it.

This day, it is aways othering,

not my now.


I gave by my hands,

that were in deed loved.

An intended severence,

those acute cuts

of kindness.

Then a parting gift,

pressed firmly against my lips,

for a future uncaged.


Goes then, shown gathering

also so many, seashells,

new memories,

on that sultry, salty, foreshore.

No wild breakers,

yet, there besides

many days may remain

to us, also roses.