I had a conversation with Summer once.
Bright and sad she seemed to me.
We talked a while of little things,
of what once was, and will never be.
She told me how she loved the sea,
the crashing spray of playful waves
and the warm embrace of her favorite breeze.
I believe this the only life Summer craves.
We stop a while to listen to
Silence's slow, deep sound.
She then turned to me with a meaning gaze,
to say some things lost cannot be found.
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