Having said it all
    saying good-bye
    again & again until
    I almost believed it

    Surely there is a season
    for forgetting
    when the leaves hide
    the scars of the branches

    When birds sing swinging
    along the sagging wires
    surely there is no better
    or sweeter song than theirs

    Summer drains the fragrance
    from the honeysuckle
    carrying that scent toward me
    like the memory of dancing

    If I meet you there
    I will deny nothing

© Bob Rixon