Summer's fugue

Waiting for summer.

Of summer's heart we face
no hindrance of the cold's embrace
our fragile ways like tempered glass
are fractured from a broken past

Of summer's heart we seek
a semblance of identity
where passion speaks of gentle scenes
in passage to a passing dream

Of summer's heart we find
the sterile feeling of divine
when woe that's mine is lingering
to know that summer's silence rings

Of summer's heart we cry
convening with our own goodbyes
secrets die when not to last
regretting forlorn days amassed

Of summer's heart we sing
when vehemence is wrought from spring
and madness brings what hearts implore
a sadness here, then nothing more