A Summer Scene

Sooth my reliquant tongue with not touch nor taste but something sprung of truth. For sated soul and rebellious youth the proof is in seeing that there's so much to lose. In every moment passed is the chance at sweet romance, and bliss, and hope, and change, and those other things that stay. As what? Naught, but the intimations, abbreviations for what we truly yearn. To burn for a moment, to burn for all life, to see it a future outside of strife. The sense just changes to remain abstained as the usual early train. Too easy to see, much more to be, oh how this world ignores it so blithely. Oh how do we, tarry not see, that this is the day, the moment, the scene. For something akin to an obsessed dream. For this is the day we need to gain in revelry.