Now the nights are turning warm again...
She'll close her eyes
beneath another
passing summer's moon
to remember
his were hazel
and wise
and burning with afire
she had thought she owned alone-
She'll let that memory wash over
like forbidden religion
to cleanse her soul...
and though she's long since forgotten
the sound of his voice,
the summer knows that he will hold her
every night it lends them
and he'll whisper,
"Georgia's burning"
as she sleeps.
