The Last Summer Poem by Subhash Misra

This year there will be no summer
Inestimable afternoons
When not much really exists
Only a silence burning on
The oven of the passing day
The dehydrated clay of thoughts
Tress motionless along the warm waters
Of the pond allowing the miasmic
Reflection of life: floating as if
There is still time for a come back
But that is really not true
Because this year there will
Be no summer to tell you
That we are not here any more