A Summer Tale - a poem by Chris Zachariou

River at dusk, echoes of grief, and loss

Swallows still flew carefree
in the August sky — ironic!
Our summer had ended in July.

At the twilight of the day, we meet
in the silent garden of the obscured.

We reach out but we can never touch.
Shadows drift across her eyes,
she whispers to me, but I do not hear her —
I am terrified, will I forget her voice?

Decades in the Nether World.
I breathe life into you and thousands
around the world now know the tale.
Yet I keep your name a secret.

The acacia trees still bloom in springtime;
it was never meant to be our time.
I smile for our days of May
and grieve for the nearing days of winter.
 

Part of the cycle of poems thirteen silk verses