Solitude Of Mid-Summer

As I walk into the footprints of known unconcern Concerned unknown from the legions remembering Of those golden voices in my solitude of mid-summer I stuck up for a moment with little tired bloods in hand. when I browse through the tears of their toil wistful across the winds of days lost-achieve dispossessed The nostalgia raucously recoils over their walks And the folds of beauty of the gets embittered. I peep into creek of reconciliation sitting by side of earthly man and matter in and around in-between I falter to follow the patterns of blood or dust together In searching summer or winter of tempered zones. When I wish someone with little smiles in askance I wonder to see their promises and portraits hung Across the walls of silence beyond and beneath with their love and hatred perplexed and entwined.