Fall Almost
Summer’s sun thins to
cloud and mist,
Sky-blue being washed out
to grey,
Faces recently uplifted
Fade and pale and turn
away.
Autumn colours quietly
arrayed,
Gilded leaves shading to
brown
Until gathering winter
winds,
With cold fingers, pluck
them down.
While she of four score
years and ten,
Who’s the last of all
she knew,
Accepts now her season has
gone,
Feels she’s had more
than her due.
There may still be sun yet
to come,
But even so, days grow
small,
Summer passes to memory,
Then will slip beyond
recall.
