Long Gone

I've dreamt of a summer.

It was a picture, old and gray, tattered and worn out,

a resident of an old jacket pocket, filled with

dust and sand, coins and memories

long gone.

Yes, I've dreamt of a summer, I've dreamt

an old man remembering the warm southern wind

that carried a whisper of a past long forgotten,

long gone.

It was a fading memory, his mind,

and everything he knew and cherished slowly disappeared

like an untold dream, like a whisper in the wind, like an old tale,

long gone.

There was nothing left but the summer and its warm breeze

and the shade of an oak tree in the graveyard, where he goes

and doesn't know why, and where he cries for somebody

long gone.