I shake in his
lives.
When can you see
the life –
not short, nor
long, nor eternal, but fair?
Summer’s gold is
dimmed.
Men shall fade and
you can brag all of this,
or rough the summer’s
fair complexion.
Eyes shall breathe
in.
Every so often
your darling gives his untrimmed possession to eternal
chance.
Compare that
sometime date to time lines; to grow as a day buds.
Do temperate
summer winds wander by this long shade of you?
Or shall you
lease, and owe, and sometime lose?
May shines too hot
and more, of course, from nature’s fair eye.
You are a lovely
changing heaven.
And so, too, his
death declines you.
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