The Last Summer Night

The Last Summer Night (6th June 2008, 9.17am)

This is the Last Summer Night
that I will spend dancing in tents under stars
flooded with the scent of crushed grass,
cider-laden breath and empty bottled glass;
outside, darkness falls like a soft snowfall,
dampening down the world with dewfall
as the songs end and the crowd call out for
yet one more encore from the tired band;
I clutch my plastic cup in happy hands
as beside the people I love best I stand,
swaying in the noise and smoke that drifts
from sneaky cigarettes that give magic lifts,
and the boy who hopes his talk will charm a kiss;
if only every day I spent ended with such laughter
as, with a flourish, the crowd-charming master
returns to the stage for a final song played faster
than we can move our rooted feet to the beat,
as underneath the canvas we sing along to seek
a sweet escape from mundane Thursday eve;
this is the Last Summer Night that I will spend
dressed in baggy jeans with muddied hems;
from the past, I pluck and wear like gems
strung around my neck the nights we spent
like this, youth hanging from us like snakeskin
halfway cast; the lack of care is wearing thin,
and the beat that emanates from deep within
begins to cease to match the tune that echoes
round the flapping walls; suspended in the throes
of applause, I raise my arms and whistle low
and long, saluting the Last Summer Song
that I will listen to; for me, the time has gone
for revelling and making free; I will bid so long
to all of this; the Last Summer Night.