Summers All

Summers all in vain.

A day to cry, followed by a day to silence, followed by a day to sigh about the previous two. And a day to do none of that, a day to just. A day to fracture the sentence. A day to do it wrong. A day to find it right. A day to just. A day to be. A day for all the rest. A day for the silent and a day for the loud. A day that doesn’t, a day that does. A day that never comes. A day that always does.

And then I find it. And it looks bright in the water. And it shines for me. It shines for everyone. But only I notice. So it shines for me.

In the sparkle I spot a sign. A sign that says no more. And I can not seem to depend upon what I did before. And in the summer time, and then, I can’t say that it’s okay. I really can’t.

So I write it down. And it finds its footing. And it means but one thing, but to none. And it says hello.

Hello.

The summer came in vain. The summer was in vain.

The,

Summers all in vain.

A guy