Summer of June

Dripping on the forest floor on a morning cold

Dew drops formed from stones of long ago

Eons pass; fleeting past and on we go.

Stage a mirage that gives us a few seconds to set apart

And lay open the carnage and destruction of autumn

From the bottom of a pitless soul that has grown cold

I say I love you and want you to know my heart goes on

Beating like a burning bush of farmers that do not get compensation for what they reap

Creeping on to the sunday mornings from midnight parties i don’t go to

Hold on to the feeling of the days we promised will hold true

While i try once again to drive away the gloom of monsoon.

Come soon.

The forest fire is the funeral pyre of desire that is hell bent to consume;

Awaiting the summer of june.