WHEN SUMMER GOES

She can't be unhappy; you said, the smiles are like stars in her eyes, and her laugh is thistledown around her low replies; is she unhappy? you said--- but who has ever known another's heartbreak--- all he can know is his own; and she seems hushed to me, as hushed as though her heart were a hunters fire smothered in snow.

Because you are to me a song, i must not sing you over-long. because you are to me a prayer i cannot say you everywhere. because you are to me a rose----you will not stay when summer goes.

IMAGE AND POEM © 2005 by Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos NOT yet as my Rockwell Wilder Persona.