Summer of 99

Escaping the melting heat and dust,
we walked into a shade, talking.
That summer afternoon, when we met up,
and we spent time together,
aimlessly and endlessly,
talking about you and talking about me.
You wrote a verse about the shade of that tree,
which, you said, was like singing a lullaby,
I asked you to sing it out.
It was quite a moment.
your verse - like a lullaby,
and me sitting beside you, holding your hand.
You hummed a nectarly tune and i felt i should never let you go.
I looked at the dust around the shade of the tree,
dust raising up in that smouldering heat,
slowly i saw your image filling in it,
and , the dust at once turning into Gold.
Was it your song? or my own foolishness?
though knowing that it was an illusion,
i moved towards the dust,
leaving the Gold behind...