The Passing of Summer
Do you feel the breath of autumn upon your neck?
The smell of damp leaves in the predawn gloom
A pallid sun rises without warmth
Too far away, too far away
So soon the time for rest is upon us
Leaves flame red and orange on the branch in timely tribute
The queen of summer has played her last song
And in requiem we lament her passing
Copyright © Nick Bagnall | Year Posted 2012
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