Summertime - Edward Hopper

I might have guessed you'd pick out Summertime.
The Nighthawk's low-life chic is not at all
your style. At dawn, when pale ephemeral
light sanctifies the seedy side-street's grime,
autumnal sunshine streams into the room,
a woman wakes, to find herself alone,
angelic brightness cannot then atone
for emptiness - your nagging sense of doom.
These images that haunt your hidden dream
will never grace your wall. Instead you choose
a scene of inadvertent hope. Above
the solitary girl, white buildings gleam;
she waits, in cotton frock and high-heeled shoes:
the Summer breeze enfolds her like new love.

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