Adam’s song (original poem of mine)

As purely as the morning
Where the swallow dives,
And the sun’s brow rises
A melancholy charm
Under the first melody of the day
I loved you then.

When the sky spoke
In simple blues
I swam with it
Under clouded waves and arches
I was the artist
And my sculpted dreams
Lay soft,
And clean
Like linen.

I watched the spring
Tentatively pushing at the Earth.
An inescapable rust,
Was feeding on my memory
And I knew that it was only time,
Being time.
I could breathe.

The diamond spark of winter,
Unearthed my discontent.
October was never a good month for me.
Again I felt the air change,
Almost holy.
A transition,
Can be seen
In every pattern on the leaves.
As I would read your palm,
Your story waits to grow
And fall around me.

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