A Play Called Summer

The Joy Of Once Loving

being loved

first kisses

first drinks

playing games

all part of the role

in the play

called 

Summer

the time for

carefree moments

endless memories

too short of kisses

not enough under the moonlight

nights falling shorter and shorter

time for loves that are fleeting

so deep 

in the moment

everlasting

no more now

nothing more than a 

healed scar

yet some of the wounds

of the play called

Summer

have yet to heal

the pain

the loss of love

of “first”

all beginning 

wondrously

and 

ending

hopelessly

in the loss of myself

in this play called

Summer

Reviews

[Owlgirl]

I love the use of colored words, the pink seems to bring out the emotion in it, yet the sadness seems to sink into the color, tinting it darker. Lovely. Very well written.