Waiting for the Cheerful Summer

Waiting for the cheerful summer,
I knelt at the rim of sorrow,
With a mystic scent of wonder,
Hugging tight plans for tomorrow,
Praying, hoping, thinking, sensing,
Magic scents out of desire.
Colours, fierce like blood, are setting,
Through my chest, the sacred fire.

I shall care for love you gave me,
’Till no summers will be dancing,
Memories blinking tears’ quay
From a sea of the fate’s glancing.
I shall dare the pain of sunsets,
Twisting sadness to fresh dawns,
Ruling out the rustling regrets,
Shrouded in biases’ lawns.

I shall hold your thorny branches,
Wildly piercing my soft palms,
Witnessing how rosy patches,
Are renaming my new balm.
I shall keep the fire burning,
Deeply carving in my heart,
’Till the summers will be washing,
All the fears, somewhere apart.

In meantime, I shall keep writing
Mathematics of warm love,
Where foresight is greatly catching
Calculations from above.
Where the one adding another,
Is totalling still as one.
While the two minus the other,
Is equalling just a none.

© Simona Prilogan