Pome #2: "A Summer's End" (Reprinted from 5/30/2009, Edited Where Necessary)

I decided to resurrect another forty-year-old poem entitled "A Summer's End." Something decidedly different for me, even then... 

The story takes place on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and a summer thunderstorm begins and increases in intensity, mirroring my characters' conversation.

Thanks for your time.

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A Summer's End

A summer's day, so fine and fair,

Brought summer's eve, so warm.

The moon was shining through her hair.

No hint of coming storm.

The day'd been spent eventfully.

New vistas had been sought.

I showed her what she meant to me

And spoke my inner thoughts.

She told me "I've found peace with you.

You mellow out my life."

I answered "Dear, I've thought things through.

I want you as my wife."

She smiled but firmly shook her head,

Which puzzled me a lot,

Until she softly, gently said,

"Let's not ruin what we've got."

The summer moon its dom'nance took

And siphoned off the day.

She climbed the rocky overlook

To view the ocean spray.

On this high cliff she took my hand.

The sea raged far below.

She begged "Please, darling, understand.

I care for you, you know!

"It's just that marriage is passé,

An out-of-date-ideal."

Light rain began, and all I said

Was "No, it's not. It's real."

"You wonderful romanticist,"

She cooed, to keep things light.

But I could not adjust to this.

I knew that I was right.

The summer rain beat harder now;

The ocean sprayed its foam.

I kept the argument alive,

Refused to take her home...

"It's not how I would live," she said.

I said "I'll ask again..."

"You're asking something I can't give!"

"Don't say you can't. You can."

She searched for words, then found the sea.

"Dear, watch the waves withdraw.

They love to touch the shore, like me,

But freedom is their law.

"They need not stay upon the sand

To smooth it free from scars."

I shrugged those words off. "Take my hand!

What's mine may yet be ours."

The summer storm, a tempest spread,

Almost drowned out her plea.

"You haven't heard a word I've said!

How stubborn can you be?"

The storm's force ruled my actions then,

Heart pounding like the waves.

With sorrow for what might have been,

I knew no hope was saved.

I turned and left her, boldly.

Shocked, she never said a word

As I strode away so coldly.

Rain and surf were all I heard.

But swift remorse came; back I looked,

To straighten out this mess...

But she had jumped.

Her life she took.

She did love me...

I guess.