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Without the sun that drives the season’s day,

your absence stole the morning’s ebullience.

To wish for opulent flowers to stay,

must lure with one’s idyllic eloquence.

The passing aura of fresh morning dew,

led to stolen beauty of it’s glamour.

Where memories of the spreathed meadow rue,

has left my heart to an open dagger.

When darkness engulfs the summer sky,

even the stars refuse tranquility.

Yearning passion for one’s return is high,

but not as strong as love’s proclivity.

If the sun and the moon come together,

then would come the blooming of bell heather.