Summer's End
The breeze has stirred the trees with tender strains
of promises. Refrains we could not keep.
But left behind, a fervent song remains,
in fields of grass, where summer goes to sleep.
Our silhouettes, once sketched beneath the sky,
of fingers, gently placed upon my breast,
are only dreams I've kept. And now I sigh
from memories the years have laid to rest
The seasons do recall. Who could forget
the blush of gold upon the summer's cheek?
Those days are gone, without regret, but yet
each dawn brings back the youth we long to seek
When summer's gone, and we, as well must go,
we'll rest our hearts in leaves of afterglow
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For Francine's Contest: Summer's End -- 8/25/13
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