“The Courage to Say Goodbye Summer”
Say we haven’t arrived at the season’s passage. One of us has to summon the courage to say goodbye.
The burden’s on you.
Somehow a stubborn refusal has overtaken my internals. And it offers no rationale for intercepting what we both know must be—a mature farewell.
When summer arrived, I barely knew your name. Why did your soul speak with such resonant volume? Yesterday I hardly memorized your name, woman.
Today you inhabit the beginnings and the ends of my natural mind.
A man is foolish to allow himself the intoxication of a woman. There is no sanity in falling in love, especially for a man who prides himself in the control of his sensibilities both without and within.
A man has no business allowing himself to fall for a woman. Only a fool indulges such a vulnerability, no? His wisdom, his logic, humph, his impenetrable player’s swag, his a-man-CAN-be-an-island unspoken mantra disallows him to even entertain the notion of caring about a woman.
I got that memo. As have countless others of my by-the-code brethren.
But of all the rules, all the articles of self-preservation, all the cautionary clauses codified in the document, none mentioned a woman like you.
Did I get the wrong addendum? Was it a misprint as a cruel joke?
Alas, the joke’s on me—summer. I’m laughing at myself as I write this. Insincerely I laugh.
A child of God will, must, one day reckon with the spiritual realm of his existence. Regardless of what “man” has written in self-help books, how-to-navigate-love guides, and dating-rules pamphlets, a woman is or will become part of that realm at some point.
You entered mine this summer.
But the season has reached passage. Our summer’s romance was its gift of a magic carpet ride like none I’ve experienced. Ever.
But, let’s face it, one of us has to summon the courage to say goodbye.
The burden’s absolutely yours.
I tore up and burned to ashes that memo. My courage compelled me to.
In case the burden for you is simply too much, just in case courage has evaded you as summer ends . . .
. . . Autumn is an even more beautiful season. It happens to be my favorite.
If you’re amenable, I’m yours.
Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2
© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®
Can I pamper you . . . in Autumn? -Rg2