White all along

It is perhaps the longest Summer I have known;
the Sun glared upon the cowering wind,
nights paid their tribute in calm and cold
to the gaudy master of relentless days.

It is perhaps the longest Summer I have known;
from a high up and an azure throne,
he lashed upon listless lives
wrung out from within their souls.

To fondly yearn for Summer is a distant memory
through which it permeates still:
an incessant white our eyes sink in!

Now that rains have graced this parched lawn,
upon the ashes and colors reborn,
I lay there
and wonder

It is perhaps the longest Summer
I have ever known.

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