High Haf

Picture by Gayle Murphy

 

High Haf




You deceived me with your promises

of bright, warm days and long, light nights.

How could you.

We were to fly among the hills

and walk through new warm sea;

instead I emerge like a pit pony

into the coal-black afternoon.

You have done this before,

but I am soft and need your touch

yet you tease me with trailers of might be

you advertise so well it is a pity

you have nothing to sell.

You are the summer love:

Transient, naïve and remembered

with distorted fondness.



Christopher Challener