(i) Summers I Remember

Summers, I remember,
were of the now,
every moment experienced
instantly rendered in nostalgia
but a moment after:
Morning sun recalls last night's revelry;
noon reminds why we lay abed in the morning;
cool damp evening excites the plans we made all day,
and every second of the humid night
murmurs threats that the
previous second might have been our last!

Summers, I remember,
were forever,
an eternity of waiting,
all bronzed sun and earth with
only the rare catalyst to make it true gold.

Summers, I remember,
were painful,
duller and duller milestones,
disappointed good-byes to friends
and innocences.

Summers. I remember
how I couldn't wait for them to start,
couldn't wait for them to end,
can't recapture the glory, and
cannot help but sometimes
offer up a shaky, weighing sigh to
Summers I remember.