Still, I Dream

It's in the early hours of the morning when the sun is barely rising, distant clouds blush in their lavenders and pinks the seasons are changing, come round to this time of year, the fall of autumn leaves on a coloring palette flow from old withered greens to burgundies and reds spotted yellow on orange pumpkin residue leftovers from summer dying giving way to autumn dispensaries of harvest stars and moon lighting pathways in the ebony night; as I walk in my own shadow marveling at how the years have passed so quickly I find, new dreams formed, hopeful and inspiring that time remaining is all I have and my dream is simple to live it well.