June Is Gone far Too Soon.


June is gone far too soon.


One third of paradise has vanished,
far too soon, passes sweet June.
This emerald lady trimmed 
in polka dotted dandelions
now strolling down memory lane 
and blowing sweet kisses 
of honeysuckle as she parts.

Children once danced from the 
cloistered rooms of learning 
to greet her, 
the mother of all liberation
shouting joyously
at her approach, 
freed to go home to families 
but now are orphaned
by her passing.

Old men remember how often
she left them before,
training their eyes 
on some distant horizons,
and muttering at the rapid transit,
that spirits her away.

Mothers gaze out 
windows over tea,
reminiscing on June weddings,
that became lifetimes
of laundry, and lethargy
hanging on thin lines,
in the backyards of 
what could have been.

June departs us far too soon,
sprightly skipping over,
yesterdays sunshine
and next seasons return,
God willing.

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