Summer’s Retreat

An old man siting by a gravestone
cleans the inscription so it can be read.
A potent symbol of just why he had come,
“True Love Is Eternal,” was all it said.

Wiping a lone tear his expression glazed
sorting out memories he swore to keep.
Softly he began to whisper his thoughts,
thin lips wearing a smile borrowed from sleep.

Do you remember how we met each other
picking out a pumpkin ripe in the sun?
Struggling with weight of that orange giant
we were bubbling over with excitement and fun.

Fledgling hearts converged in autumn’s chill
while admiring the beauty of the trees.
A kaleidoscope of leaves played the wind
and we danced in tune with every fresh breeze.

Our hands touched and we laughed out-loud,
a happy sound filling our hearts with joy.
Sweet smells of summer’s bounty spiced the air
arousing the man concealed in the boy.

Our trust grew as inhibitions were shed
and embracing hope we shared our first kiss.
Two hearts high on elixir of passion
falling in love and experiencing bliss.

I recall splashes of sugar maples
blazing in mosaics of scarlet and gold.
Memories only the heart can retrieve,
a treasured page within a book grown old.

Promising to see her again in time
the old man grudgingly rises to his feet.
Winter stalks his weary bones, life is short
and death encroaches at summer’s retreat.