My blooming loneliness
doesn’t have a country to walk on.
My home, a cage,
filled with childhood fables.
Inconsolable daydream
my spirit runs to catch
a summer, music, joy, you.

We met summertime,
you didn’t fit in a multitude.
Your loneliness matched with
my afflicted song.
My silence nursed your silence.

Many years I’ve questioned
how and why…
How has Fall brought you
in the naked branch of my heart.
Why are there waves inside your eyes
that travel me.

If you get lost in the Winters,
if you don’t wait for me in the Summers,
with what poems I would write
to fill my life with variety.

Stained by the sun I see you sitting
on the wooden chair, speechless,
avoiding my eyes,
as if my Summer is heavy on you,
as if my Spring causes you pain.

Your glance offered me a nail,
the poem died on my lips.
I haven’t seen another Summer.
Your Winter stole my childhood fables.