Sarah's Days

Sweet, sweet summer rain,
swallows whispering secrets on the clothesline.
Dogs are lazy;
hear that whistle blowing down the railroad line.
Sarah takes it easy,
in slumber in the bouquet of her Chianti wine.
The lands ablaze, summer days,
no such thing as time.

Abandoned clouds idly drift
across the deep blue sky.
Remnants of some foreign storm,
on high into the by and by.
Their shadows rambling across the valley,
soon the sun will burn ’em dry.
The lands ablaze, summer days,
catch the colours of the dragonfly.

No sloops are sailing, their sailors sleeping
on the banks of the lagoon.
Eyes are heavy, minds at ease
in the peace of the delirium.
Sands are burning, the nets are dry:
hope a breeze will speak up soon.
The lands ablaze, summer days,
changing tides for the afternoon.

A wondering mind takes me through
the mysteries of the falling haze.
Where the air is cool and the fruit is sweet,
in the evening the music plays.
Sarah’s soft caresses
‘neath the shafts of southern rays.
The lands ablaze, summer days:
of all that’s true in what she says.

Her hair is wild, her skin is dark,

of beauty born and to entice
Her breath is warm, her touch is true:
she’s of an art beyond a price.
Her every move, a ballade of love,
her perfumes blessed in precious spice.
Of Sarah’s ways, such cherished days;
of love, I sing and paradise.