Wind woos through wooded hues with blues and blush-jazzy appeal
It seems to play upon a sense of loneliness I feel
I’d skip the ‘I miss you’ but then, what good are memories?
Sweet, sweet the tempo of time’s cotton-candy melodies
Don’t cry for me, for we are all in this together, oh,
And everything we hold the prelude to its letting go
The once-upon-a-time of youth melts on a begging breeze
And seals sweet summer in pink cotton candy melodies
O-o-o-oh, a-a-a-a-ah, the minstrels croon and snuff high-noon
with lowered dusk
And we pretend that we have grown immune to its blue-brusque
-ness that tousles our dreams and flings them far out
to sea
Where they return, requiem of cotton-candy melodies
© Janet Martin
Summer is Time's cotton-candy; a sweet momentariness
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