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Itís like Iíve rolled over expecting the sun to warm my eyes and a tender breeze on my face but instead Iím greeted with the empty night. The hollow sound greets me alone. And I wonder where the summer has gone and who it is with now. Probably keeping warm someone who had been held in winter, strapped to their bed by the chill passion leaves in its wake.

And the freezing wind begins its sporadic whisper, tormenting me. I donít like the words that it says. Each rattle of the shutters saps my confidence, every ache of the house drains like dripping blood my certainty.

So I lie awake and wait for summer to come again.

Remember my friend, despite all you are, all we are, the universe will tick on, long past our departure.

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The following comments are for "Summer's Gone."
by Thea Veol

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