Summer Day may as well End, Yet the Dawning Night has just Begun

I wrote this for one of my english classes, mimicking the structure a poem named "From The Other Side, Houdini Tries To Come Through For Bess" written by David Clewell.

Hailey Olmsted

3/16/5

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Summer Day may as well End, Yet the Dawning Night has just Begun

I hope to dance a summers sway so dream like

I cannot but think: for it’s sweet aridness would surely cloud my thoughts.

I’d beg to feel the tangy coolness that fill your throat with whiskey like bites of a fresh tea

forever, if I could have but that one thing everyday,

summer would not be as fine as it is tonight. It runs but once a year

over and over yet never the same, remembering that one year in 95 of an endless charade of rain .

But it eventually it stopped. And now I take to an unusual pleasure

of that soft pitter patter. I shall never understand the likings of either.

Lights you slowly wander, to your deepest depths

 in blood orange silhouettes. I’d hate them to fade away 

into the dark, smearing your colors, from green, to blue, to black. So please wash over

your sky with stars who give me light

who’s sequins speckle, dancing quietly on

sky’s edge. May the sun never take over.

May his rays recoil back beneath their skin. And forgive me, but may there be no

croak of the roosters beak so rupturing that the Earth’s mountain,

in crumbs and shambles, lay the fiery glow silently 

back to sleep. These mountains hold an ocean

where facades of oak echo the crickets melodies and hundreds

of blackening fire pits rebel the suns set if you breath even a line of 

lets tell stories. They will always follow suit

cracking through out the hushed sighs, popping

reflection along brown eyes of embers and anticipation. They keep

your secrets hidden in chambers they lock them safely below:

ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Remember when I listened alone in halls of golden wheat,

the growing rumbles of bubbling frogs, that rippling moment

pulsing through my fingertips, the stalks stilled

just to play its part in this silent film?

It gave me time that I believed wasn't there, sweeping night-gowns

of serenity in pooling humbleness, from within my a dawning night.

Author's Note

Ignore any grammar problems, I am very new to writing poetry but I would very much appreciate any feedback, good or bad. Hope you enjoyed it!