WITHERED

Summer seasons
Bring back old lesions
And dubious reasoning.
It gets so humid,
It’s so hard to sleep,
Regrets theme dreary dreams.
The last of the blossoms
On jacaranda branches
Recall withered chances -
Countless changes in midstream.

Yet nothing stays the same
While the heat rolls in
And the afternoon promises
The pounding of pouring rain
That washes regret’s reminders
From the ponderous air
But fails to wipe away guilt
In the daylight saved for despair.