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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!