Summer & the Sun

Drowning virtue in waters blue.
The amorous sun is mine too well,
but here’s a little dolce for you.

How do you know it’s summer?
With the chilly breeze in the air.
How do you know winter’s gone?
Longing for strawberry eclairs.

Some cuppas too little, some fleeces unworn.
And now the sun shines, longer days – smile,
for there are winters plenty to be forlorn.

How do you know it’s summer?
With chirping sounds outside.
How do you know no fall is near?
Blooming fits of passion, feeling the heat in your eyes.

With perfect leisure, hedonic pleasure,
the warming glaze of the sun.
And just how soon that blaze will vanish into sweet nothings of fun.
Perfect days and weather divine – chaos that is anything but sublime.

How do you know it’s summer?
With the chirps, passion, sweetness of the breeze.
And of course, a dwindling sneeze.

When do you know it’s summer?
When hearts on sleeves are worn
and to fall in love you’re prone.

But white casts let no verity through.
Summer lovin’ but lasts a day.
The earl tan too soon fades away.

Don’t be a stranger, infidel sun, so praised.
The incorrigible, both of us know, never mend their ways.

© achillesheelpoetry, 2024

The Barrel’s Might

The raging thunder once in a while is fun,
but all we truly want is some calm and sun.

Youth’s a fleeting friend,
he takes you by the hand,
but lets go should he spy a single grey strand.

Age is like a neighbour,
lurking a door away,
and creeps up to find you in merry sway.

The young in their vigour blossom and forget.
But age does true wisdom beget.

Like a grape two pence worth in the barrel’s might.
Like the wonders unveiled by an ebbing tide.

Although these arms can no longer weight hold.
There’s love still and stories to be told.

The sight might be weary and my tongue might slip.
But oh, how the heart will yearn for another trip!

A Loss May be a Gain

Today’s dead is a wreath tomorrow.
A loss may be a gain.
Stories of valour now decks hollow.
Caveat clad in vain.

When lost in troves, in sinking mangroves,
thyself thou ‘gainst.
On heralding hours, mighty powers,
good conscience ingrained.

A fall may be a win.
Unfulfilled are most whims,
yet destinies realised.
So why sunken lay your head?
Lost albeit in dusk,
every dawn’s a brighter sunrise.

Windfalls do early freedom gain,
but the ripe’s prized more.
The loss of greener grass you lament,
unbeknownst to bluer skies in store.

Love, by the night, is lost,
when sunny days crossed.
But a heart is stirred, a soul is touched,
a better lover found.

When beaten down and lost you feel –
Live for another day.
A loss just may be a gain
keeping you sane.