Even asleep the heat overwhelms to wake
With perspired skin; here still the prisoner
On the final journey, a courtesan about to fly
A writer to hold the broken lead one last time
Outdoors it is marginally cooler
The draught floats through the open door
Into the courtyard, into the library
Across the road from Grand Central Station
Backalong, in bars and sherbet fountains
We were glad; expectant in high summer
Mad with excitement, pretty dresses
Long legs, friendship, gaiety was all around
Surrounded life closed in & leaves fell
Four seasons, the reason for the winter