For This Is the Place

The summer blues blow in on the wing of a fading wind
Taking a chance that they may be brought up
Dipping into the sand.
Tracing toes in specs of sand,
A pallet of colors soaked in sunny rays.
The tomorrow that comes,
In the midst of the fading light,
Hidden among the great beyond,
Measured in the distance of promises,
Taken with a grain of sugar to help the grace go down,
On wings of heavenly apparitions,
Beautiful clouded eyes that see into the future,
Growing heavy with regret,
When they have no need of it.
Yesterday the summer blues were many,
Today they have only doubled,
Thanking the crossed stars,
Cursing the many ruined roads.
Beach sand under rugged fingers,
That grip to hold the grains within,
A fist, losing grace quickly,
A heart hoping for eternity.
Under a pale moon,
And beneath an orange sun,
Each and ever night,
To the days that we'll fight,
Holding the hand of love tightly,
Never letting go.
A blanket on arms in an oncoming winter,
A push up the mountains of yesterday,
Over looking the sands on a blue summer day,
Where a chord rings out in the winds,
Carried forth and back again,
Brushing against the flower pedals,
Bracing the back of the beautiful eyes,
Cloudy and present with a heart that is full but distant,
Living in smiles and memories,
Of former summer days.