The summer is a desert between
mountains
Lavish with the joys of spring and fall.
I look across that bleak and lonely wasteland,
Seeing no redemption there at all.
I cannot think how I will cross without you
To reach the golden hillsides of my dreams.
I try not to imagine how I'll miss you,
And not to look too hard at what that means.
Time, the enemy of helpless lovers,
Must compensate at last those it bereaves.
I cannot wait until, once more together,
We can share the blaze of turning leaves.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.