The Summer We Designed

The summer we designed
Is the summer we desired,
The grating past the cinder walls,
The sun receding, tired.
The afternoons with coffee cups
Refreshed with new-felt ire,
The summer we designed,
A summer flower dried.

The laughter we mistook
As senses’ new delight,
Amongst the lines of books
And reading us by sight.
The summer we designed,
Unending in its thirst,
Unquenched in my desire,
I thirsted for you first.

The evening summers when
Your shadows bent and then
Enveloped me, and let me go,
Embraced me, then again
The restless dreams, and bedroom’s screams
The sheets that summer stained,
The lips that murmured sheepishly,
And wished for softest rain.

The summer we designed
Is the summer we desired,
The march of April, April may
Continue past July.
Yet afternoons, a drying kiss,
Replaced with drying tears;
A summer I remained to miss
For years and years and years.

— A. P.

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