Summer, you are fading away slowly, a life well lived now in its golden era. Only a gentle warmth in the mornings, your grasp weakening as you comb through the flowers in the garden. Creeping along with stealth where before you strode boldly. The birds no longer sing in the darkening shadows that play in the leaves of the trees. Your sunlight filters lazily to the ground.
Summer you are fading from our grasp, we still need the golden evenings where you sparkled, joy contained like a bubble floating on the breeze. There are now flowers in the garden bending towards your light, shivering in anticipation of a winter to come. A winter that we have forgotten, seduced by your warmth. These are your golden days summer, we will make the most of them now, before you are gone.
