Summerday Poem by Randy Bolante Jr

Summerday



My heart will die if she pleases

In the dark it lie no I wishes

Soberly keeping the last part of it

and my obscure fading restlessness


But I remember you at Tuesday

When you come, think, therein my way

O whence have I called it Sunday?

When I dream about you sitting on the bench

On the sunny summer contrasting day.

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