Bittersweet Scottish Summer

I stared at the empty page

Not knowing whether to bitch or make an adage

Maybe I could try to wet that six by eight with ade

Concocted and brimmed in my dreamy head

During the Bealltainn companioned by the Great Highland bagpipe

I heard myself humming to delightful melodies

Yesterday I awoke to a dampened hype

In fellowship with silence I groaned in my maladies

Images of a kvetching child now dance before me

Echoes of her voice are haunting but no less than endearing

It’s but a short time before she melds into the scenery

That of a luxuriant Kelvingrove Park, reddening

The bench is empty, save for the weathered grains
A faithful third in every conversation

Whether they be blessings or banes

The gust has carried them to certain oblivion

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder

But it felt like the top of Ben Lui, only colder

Behind the tear-sealed palpebras picturing Loch Lomond

I revisit the sweet memories of summer gone