for the passing of another summer

to find
that things
can never be the same
and lose the feeling
of old places
of old poems
of old friends
to finally forget
and then, some windy day
to suddenly discover time to think
to walk along a street
in rain and colors
reminiscent of a time
a train of thought
a pattern
left or lost
while gradually pursuing
a new life
to half-remember autumn
of a year ago
and retrace slowly
all the steps that led me
to this pain
and then to cry
for all the innocence
that kept the poems
and the friends
and places
from becoming bitter tears
call it
the tragedy of autumn
sorrow for a passing-passions
fire
that has burned itself to embers...
one more time
to feel the hot and tearing pain
of losing things
that slipped away
between a snowflake
and the summer sun
and then to laugh
because beyond the hurt
somewhere,
is still my free and happy love