The End of English I Advanced Honors, The Beginning of Summer

Sometimes I think how light is spent
a word in graphite on a desk
when day does end and night commence
her shaded curtains drawn.

I asked a play-write, scorned and old
traveled in skies I've yet to see
loved in life and soon was sold
to Death's arms which gathered all.

I used to think the world was round
and dreamed in black and white and gold
my thoughts were simple in a cloud
of dust, of lust, of love.

Summer days and midnight walks
are udder fantasies to me
but as I sit, the silence knocks
for fear is not my enemy.