Saying
Goodbye to August
In saying goodbye to
August I'm being realistic in saying that time was ballistic. It seemed to have flown by so fast that I
didn't have a chance to make it last.
It's as though I couldn't bet on seeing a rosy sunset because as soon as
I looked over my shoulder its warm view was over. It was as if summer didn't even get a chance
to smolder and so none of us have had a chance to grow old before it started
getting cold.
It's kind of neat to
begin to turn on the heat but there are still warm ripples and waves that I
wish to eat without the taste of geese flying south simmering in my mouth. I've yet to bid farewell to balmy summer
trails and I've yet to stumble across old railroad rails. I've yet to sing of Giant Springs and I've
yet to sit in playground swings. I feel
rushed as if the sound of summer is going to be hushed and so I'm fearing not
hearing the rhythm of a beat that's been serenaded with heat.
I know why I don't want
to say goodbye. It is because it makes
me want to cry. I don't want the day to fade
into yesterday and I don't want warm breezes that please us to begin to tease
us with a winter that's coming and so I keep on humming as if to deplore it to
ignore it. I do not want this weather to
stop because I've yet to make it to the mountaintop! I thought time was mine with which to climb
to higher heights with which to take on glorious sights.
It is to my dismay that
things soon will no longer be this way.
It was for August that I was yearning and for her my heart is still
burning. I refuse to let her fall
because of the onset of fall. She is my
sweetheart after all and so it is that I am still determined to deck the
halls. I will let no season bury her
because I'm going to marry her and with it my memories will carry her where
every warm breath will stay the execution of death.
Saying goodbye to
August is a cause for which I pause. She
is like a singer and so I wish her voice to linger. I wish for her song to caress me all day long
to where all warm nights are free of fright and so I dream as I flow down her
stream. It is her face that I wish to
continue to beam as the glistening of the morning dew again comes true. Know that when you leave that I will
sincerely miss you.
Orrin K. Loftin,
Explorer
Copyright? When in knowing she is going I still try not
to cry.
August 26th,
2016
