A Summer Thing

A searing sun
Brushed gently by
Fragrance of the Spring;
A dormant heart
Bade wake to see
A soft,
A Summer thing.
With gentle hand
She led,
Her time surrendering,
Until the weariness of soul
Had fled
And joy was everything.
Though it must fade
And drift away,
This wondrous
Summer thing,
A thankful one
Will reminisce
And sigh…
remembering.