Sounds of summer on the radio.
A lark ascends on violin wings
Above imagined tree tops,
The wind - a hum of violas.
Summer is a long time gone now,
The red leaves fallen to heaps of damp fire
Left smouldering on street corners.
Dogs sniff the wind blown debris - then move on.
I try to remember the faces of long gone friends.
The smoke from dying embers is clearer to me now
Than eyes once full of passion,
Smiles innocent and new.
One day in the park, however, retains true clarity -
Anne chatting and laughing - a lark almost out of view.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 8th. 2020.
Poem Two in sequence.
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