by Julio Chapluzki
Driving through this sylvan scene
beneath bowed crowns of trees,
the dappled sunlight reigning
down on you and me,
if only you were here with me.
O how many summer mornings shall be filled with anger
When cooperation can be the first solution ?
*
O how many summer mid days are filled with joy
While pain exists so deep within our souls ?
*
O how many summer evenings drag on in dullness
Without distraction or relief from all the hurt ?
*
O how many more days must I wait in the heat
While time continue to pass me by ?
