I think
it’s getting chilly.
I can smell Halloween
and taste Christmas,
and can’t help but feel
I wasted Summer.
No more beaches,
no more swimming,
no more laying out
in bright sunshine.
Look forward.
I know.
But I don’t have
balmy warm days,
and drinking in
rainbows of leaves
just doesn’t happen.
No more watermelon,
no more fishing
no more walking out
in songs of cicadas.
Move on.
The day is busy
with numbers and food
and keeping up
with mountains of words
from people, from pages,
from myself.
No more warmth
no more short sleeves,
no more basking
in Summer’s day.
Author T.S. Lowe 