Cotton blotched skies, like headless sheep suspended in
the sea, threaten to drench the verdure in shades of grey,
a sapphire haze descends upon the blades of gilded leaves,
as another fickle summer is dissolved in the heat of rain.
As the warmth begins to plot its final escape, distressed
daisies distort under the weight of dampened dreams, their
palsied petals push further into their graves as the heavens
proceed to pelt the jilted once again.
And Seasons! They are absolved of their treacherous
ways, always! ’tis the flower that pays the price for unswayed loyalty,
when the Sun can leave its faithful barks, their cherished fronds
to the mercy of the rain, do I dare question your trivial absence?
We are all chained to something lost.