Cris de Borja

His love is like a summer’s day
More lovely than William’s sonnet
Like the restless wind of a woodland glen
And all the scents upon it.

Herbs crushed beneath my step
Only mimic his skin’s perfume
Beneath my lips like raspberries
And sweet as a wild bloom

He is as warm as the sleepy sun
And calm as the afternoon
His embrace is like the comforting silk
Of a moth’s unbroken cocoon

I wish my summer’s day would last
Til May becomes December
But summer days I cannot keep
I only must remember.

5/13/1998