Summerfield
On a perfect Summer’s day
Walking on a fresh green field,
Making memories warm and bright
For a cold and dismal Winter’s night.
On a Summerfield my merry fay,
With a kiss a promise sealed:
Lips that savoured cool sweet wine,
Now in Winter’s tears taste brine.
Oh, to be in Summerfield again,
‘Neath blue sky on verdant grass,
Clasping hands our hearts alight
How we’d love, all sense delight...
But instead in Winter’s bane
I gaze now in frozen glass:
Wrinkles, white hair, all decline,
And for Summerfield I long and pine.
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