by Luis A Estable
It`s summertime; my heart indeed is sad.
And though the birds are singing their sweet songs
My heart aches much with pain terribly bad,
And my young mind feels a heat gone so wrong.
I think it`s winter; thought about it I mean
That have me nervous for my single soul.
I`ll not have loving kisses, kisses clean,
Or the warm body of a female`s role.
So you can see to every a good man
Not always fair whatever is meant by life.
And to buy pearl, or gold, what poor man can?
These facts, my friend, are sharper than a knife.
Here I shed tears for things that are not mellow,
And then my thoughts to gentle my sorrow.
Last updated January 02, 2016