It seemed the Solstice would never arrive!
The excitement made sleep impossible.
With my dilemma, can our friendship thrive?
In naive dreams, anything seemed probable.
At the Dyke we talk, the dogs bark anew;
And I botch the word-‘s pronunciation.
-ŗNothing is changed-…You should leave, - lunch is through.
Cerulean heart-‘s pang parturition!
We part. I pray: -Å—Oh! life, I-‘ve found your sting.-
Yet, you leave hope! -ŗSee you later- you say.
I retreat to doubt vows and question ring.
Lest change, lovely friendship is held at bay.
Which season claims true heart: – right or righter,
You ever shine, my star-bright and brighter.
Jon Albert Zimmer