The Summer Moon
Chris Koza
So it goes
In perfect rows
The cherries and
The children grow
The days are full
The sun is at its
Highest
What was before so dearly held
Is no more compelled
No thoughts no senses
To tear us apart
Once I have lived
A thousand lives
Eternity
Shall wield its knives
And in the peace
That waits for me
Is you