summer nights are winter confusion.
the moments that were so sweetly sung
could be mistaken for the top 40 radiostation,
static and all.

i recall walking with you-
through the trees by the lake,
the spot where we would always go
to dream of the times where we
could string together words without
too much contemplation, without
the careful choice we find ourselves creating.

the pond is frozen over,
the water is but another mystery
until these summerthoughts can awaken.
until we can walk together again,
and find the days we would dream about-
because, for what i can see,

today was never meant to be that day-
nor was it meant to be this cold.

12/25/2003

Author's Note: crits? i forced this out of my mind. help.

Posted on 12/26/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams