Lolling down on the edge of time
Where the flower months fade as the days move over
Days that are long like lazy rhyme
Nights that are pale with the moon and the clover
Summer there is a dream of summer
Rich with dusks for a lover’s food
Who is the harlequin, who is the mummer
You or time or the multitude?

Still does your hair’s gold light the ground
And dazzle the blind till their old ghosts rise?
Then, all you care to find being found
Are you yet kind to their hungry eyes?
Part of a song, a remembered glory
Say there’s one rose that lives and might
Whisper the fragments of our story
Kisses, a lazy street and night