The End of August
You may find it’s all been said
What you mean to say
But it sounds not too bad
In your own sweet way
You may look out with no aim
Scanning the familiar view
But it isn’t quite the same
For today the morning dew
Burns the leaf it occupies
With the dazzling sun
Welcome to the silent cries
As if you are young
But not near that comprehensive
As the youngsters are
Maybe little over-pensive
With your mind too far
From the problems of today
Too close to the past
Saying what you have to say
Once again too fast..
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