You were my favourite time of the day.

Languid afternoons in the sleeping sun

Setting beyond the torrid winds of May.

As I watch the days trickle down to ‘One’

We hum melodies that carry the wind.

Crude harmonies of vice and careless mirth

Palpitations and how guiltless we sinned.

Those warm sultry days, now swallowed by earth

Leave only relentless torrents of rain.

Each pelt a reminder of September

(Luminated by Luna’s spiteful wane)

Afternoons awaiting the day’s ember.

So end the saccharine sounds of first Spring

To fortissimo that Summertimes bring.