tale to tale

On this long Summer day,
She’s turning for the door,
The day is setting as she holds the handle,
And my warm days turn to cold nights.

She’s leaving behind a fond smile,
Like a humid night with it’s gentle breeze.
It’s a knowing grin, with a secret I can’t place,
A hidden trick or vibrant thought?

Like she already knows the power of her steps,
To whether she’s there or not.
In my mind’s eye there’s a ghost,
Sat on the bed, smirking through a mug.

The vision I’ll have is a constant memory,
And as I’ve grown older, and learnt beneath the sheets,
I know now that a memory lasts,
While a touch or a voice, is incomplete.

One touch that will linger for each I make,
But I know now that it’s not you.
And I know this sun will rise again,
And she’ll be back, rising above your faded star.

I’ve entered the Spring from my Winter.
And grown back the buds that Autumn ripped.
Ready to bask in the long Summer,
To wrinkle my skin and make me ash.

Look at what you’ve done to me,
Throughout this honest typing,
And self-indulgent waling
I’ve become a pastoral poser.