Untamed Summers

For the horizon-level visionary
This has to be the finest, most bohemian fall of all.
At the end of a sun-retardant decade,
A season souvenir divulging the noon transactions,
the fragility of a sand castle,
the abundance of a first home,
the impunity of going down the same road;
From evening riots to morning rituals
You - so fortunate to have earned loner status
Me - too old to become an impulse follower
Or an ignored negotiator of platitude.
With every floral presence
I recall
Reminiscences of our deaf date,
The arguments behind same old smiles
Of same old lipstick and matching cheek blush;
With every by-gone second
Away from scarlet strawberry kisses and long-lasting hugs
I crave for the prolonged sophistication of waiting
As if performing an individual art
whisper by whisper, draft after draft,
I am kneeling halfway between temptation and responsibility
Falling prey to renewed resolutions
Self-absorbed and irreversibly docile
Anticipating
The ultimate recognition and liberating serenity.