Seasons, Inamorata (Revisited, 17th Oct 2014)

Summer became the sweet narcissist,
Claiming more than futures decay,
A new birth! The feverish rushing child!
Springs perfect muse and only heart,
Dying hopes, solely belonging within her.

Now lamented beauty abandons
For drained colours, plagiarised passion.

Piteous and pathetic lachrymose,
Tears collect for mournful lovers,
Clouds encase with melancholy
Between heaven and foundation,
A residue of lost permitted occasion.

And your estate contrasts coming winter
With bitter memories, shards and shivers.

Charcoal desiderates, with undue regard,
Scrutinise the silver onset of summer storms,
Manifested spectres, your power incarcerates
Your own vanity and self-conceit, thinking
You are the paramour to each season.

© Phen Weston 2014


14 thoughts on “Seasons, Inamorata (Revisited, 17th Oct 2014)

Add yours

  1. I like this line the best:
    “Scrutinise the silver onset of summer storms”
    This poem is so thought provoking. I wish we could all just enjoy life.

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