A Summer That Felt like Spring

I reminisce oh so often about The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed I would never have wanted to be without The sculptor who well my passions read From the inside and out The traveler from a newborn land I remember every word he said Neither memories nor blood has been spilled in my sand He pushed with his hands into his wing My broken visage as it bled It was a summer that felt like spring Crimson we shared my decay It was a special thing May it never go away