sixteen miles until silence.
the train tick-tocks into
distant lands in summer afternoon.
playgrounds that swarmed with bell and laughter,
die into whispers in summer afternoon.
the meadows run wild,
the purple headed mountain, the river running by
come to life in fiery solitude in summer afternoon.
come fly with me, in oceans over the sky-
hearsay, they are haunted by
impending sunsets in summer afternoon.
swirl the twilight with love and sweet sorrow,
blend in the darkness like vanilla and
soul past summer afternoon.
midsummer night- dark, windless and purple:
angels with bracelets of dreams
fly light-footed golden like summer afternoon.
T. E. Pyrus