Sonnet of a Summer Evening

It was the very end of summer.
We three were sitting on the floor
in your apartment near the park
in the part of town with tall trees,

after she and I had played tennis
beneath the sycamores and above
the creek by the old stone bridge,
listening to Crosby, Stills and Nash.

I did not know what to say,
how, even in my mind, to begin.
We were both with the one we loved.

You loved her all her life, and I
loved her just as she was that day
when we ran to the car in the rain.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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3 Responses to Sonnet of a Summer Evening

  1. joanna says:

    idyllic & delicately melancholy. lovely.

  2. That must have been a very special moment in time for a few of us. GlaDyou got to experience it, also.

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