The Room Where Summer Passes.

Well I have been doing a lot more of nothing lately. I started this:

Based on this photo:

From this groovy ad campaign featured here.

And then I drafted this:

At The Close

The sister leaves on the train

As afternoon fog crests the hills

I think of you

Buried in the years now termed “ago”

I buried you again

By a river in Russia

And sat on the bridge

To mourn

Oh, but all this I have forgotten

I do not think of it

On the way home

Or falling to sleep

In the room where summer passes

All the while listening to this:

and this:

and never ever doing my homework.