Late August


Hold my hand, my love, be not distant
For late August winds can bring a subtle separation
The ending of a season can bring disconsolation
And the swan song of summer is a ballad, bitter blue

Paths that push past the horizon leave new love to wander
To reclaim its beginnings, or flirt with finalities
The wheels of passion slow in their spinning
As the course of sweet union gently slopes uphill

Hold my hand, my love, be not hesitant
For the late August rains can bring subtle reservations
Sun-tinged memories can bring complication
And the reveries of yesterday are a picture without a tune

Clouds that cover the skyline lead love in a different way
To chase the fading sun, or lay wait the moon's ascent
The chariot of desire trails off on its run
As the mist of summer missed forms an Autumn haze

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