Not The Same Poem by William B. Deutscher

Now waiting
expectantly
for summer
to play
in the ear
as a twinkling tune;
the fairground whirl
of the once empty lot,
forgotten music
for lost summer nights.
But sudden cool
withdrawal,
absence now,
at the height
of summer's
looming fancy,
in a march
of fleeting time,
softly proclaims
an imminent change
for us.
What was
is now not,
unquestionably,
like love misplaced
in a summer garden,
or hope
rejected
with the close
of door,
the grayness
of Sunday,
the threat
of rain.