I listened to a song one day in June
That told me I would love until September,
But underneath a solemn harvest moon,
Would lose my love, at least until December.
I turned the radio to other stations,
And did not think about the song again,
Until the months' unstoppable gyrations
Brought in September; and I wondered then
If it was true. But then I realized
I had not really loved from June and on.
And so I logically just surmised
The chance to live the melody was gone.
But it is June again, and I'm in love,
And wonder what the song was prescient of.
No comments:
Post a Comment