Summer’s Rain

I hear the birds as they sang to you that winter,
When you stood betwixt splendour as a part.
They sing out your name to me together
and I cry with only the wind.

In his chill the words are carried on,
Searching for nobody and nowhere,
As my voice looks only beyond its view
to the verdant park we have lost.

Nervous leaves tug at the sleeves of my coat,
Forgotten by the naked arms above
that together we mourn like walking pilgrims,
Forsaken by living gods as we turn to the dead.

I hear the birds as they sang to you that winter
and I cry with only the wind.

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