Poetry

Dog-Day Decadence

Blue sky - spectrum of hope.

We stand with eyes open, legs bare,

Damp grass under wet feet.

Love and loss, intertwined and unflinching

Amidst the aching joy of a July morn.

I stare up and try to think,

Not of you, but eternal things

All lost in the decadent rush

Of this moment. Unlike you,

They need not fear the coming spectres

Which loom towards the fresh horizon.


Yet, sometimes to look beyond ourselves

Is to be blinded by the sun

So I satisfy myself with feeling,

Life, and hope to know no more.