Other Emma Caiman
Summer Winds...

Summer winds are weaving runnels through the grass
echoes of a melody, the sound of children laughing
the smell of hay, the molten smell of sweet golden sun
silence in the spaces in your heart

In a dream, a dream of dancing, in a space we tuck away
all the treasures all the bitter fruit, the deep and endless pain
as we try to paint a photograph of someone that we knew
but she has run too far away to hear me calling

Fruit is falling drunken from the trees
the wasps are biting buzzing on the rotting fruit beneath
I am standing waiting darkly for the rain that never falls
to cool the dark and raging ocean soothe my storm

In a dream, a dream of dancing, in a space we tuck away
all the treasures all the bitter fruit, the deep and endless pain
as we try to paint a photograph of someone that we knew
but she has run too far away to hear me calling