I allowed the moment to be –
And I allowed myself to be the moment.
The wild expectations of my teenage years are long gone;
There is no crazy purpose –
And there is no mad yearning.
Summer ends, only to come back around again.
I can let it be –
Or I can let it go.
I have no fond memories here –
Only faint reminders of what has been: mad love, melancholic, mad rage, mad, mad.
Still –
It always had a way with me.