The Bite

But when the summer starts to bite it’s too late and
I know that no amount of begging will bring back the
Hopeful blossoming coming out of the ground
Like little stubs of hope that are too stubborn against the concrete
All things are meant to fall and fail
To chaos everything must always return
But I can’t be blamed for the cold draft that scatters my thoughts when
Thoughts of lesser light fill up the horizon

I’m not a card reader but
My palms tell me scarce times lay ahead
Lines that go towards infinity yet never touch
Like the leaves that get away from the trees only to drift apart
The air has no more warmth and neither does my heart
My fingertips shake as they touch the cold pane of uncertainty
When will it all be buried in white? I must not know
Because when summer starts to bite
That means it’s over, that means it’s night
And nighttime brings back all the dark that cloaked the stars that
Your eyes couldn’t see.