Good Life

The Breeze

I left my room one summer night

to view the day's redress.

I deemed with all my earthly might

to learn of its caress.

The breeze blew gently through the leaves,

but chilled my frail display.

The dastard breeze slinked up my sleeves;

it settled in slight decay.

Was I the cause of this slight shun

this sudden break, demure?

Was I a once discolored Hun,

bold but not mature?

I though; I knew. I thought; I lied.

If only to know the why.

Was I the cause of this betide,

this swill in calm July?