Certain Summers

Drawn cement silk on champagne shutters

You flesh the margins on the page

Not before studying the seconds

It took for me to predicate

How plain it is denounced to one

But looking back the tide was low

That night of currents so unkind

Played tricks of light upon my face

I need to hear it

Why certain summers had to fall

And serve as fodder to the flame

While we pretend the long way home

Was folly first and final fate