- Books, Literature, and Writing
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.