A thought for Bygone Summers

It was the summer when we danced under perfect moonlight,
when we breathed our last.
The roar of the breeze had stopped,
a sudden stillness it was in the air,
heart aches never felt so much painful before,
it was heart ache for the night sky,
that loomed over with its enormous silence,
it was heart ache for all bygones,
for friends and lovers whom we had made to wait,
heart aches for the afternoon streak of sunlight that rested on our palms,
and we tried with all our guts to clench our fist and trap the sun,
just for a second,
just for the sake of memory may be.
It was the summer when we ripped our clothes and sat by the streets,
desperate hooligans of the night,
bitter taste in our mouths waited to find its way to another,
lips that are soft and luscious,
and for once we could throw out all the cursing and moaning and shame.
It was also the summer of love,
with limbs spread apart we laid on the floor waiting,
waiting for a familiar smile to light up our doorstep,
waiting for an unexplained desire to crop up from the genitals and climb to the heart,
waiting is a summer job,
all the world waits for God knows what.
But summer is a old man's tale now,
it is rested in his memory,
memory that will be renewed with a new summer,
and until then we will always say,
I hate the summers,
how i loathe the summers,
summer heat deceives my senses.