Summer Worshipper Poem by Mark Heathcote

Let me give you this summer as a gift.
It'll never come again with such hot bliss.
Let me feel your pulse racing against your wrist.
It'll never feel the same; we'll coexist-
and in time, life will flatline and fall static.
We'll live in shadows, each a nesting doll.
Pushed further back from ourselves, tragic
Isn't it how lifeless and banal?
The future will be after this summer.
Let's dovetail like well-made furniture.
Burn on a campfire till the stars grow duller.
Brighter by design; leave a worshipper.
In me, a parched breath breathes as if for you.
As if after today, all is lost, subdue.