We Are Not Old as Seasons Change…

(Dedicated to my brother Bill)

I stand in August and smell October coming.
The dry summer crumbles fallen leaves while green.
The eyes of children widen as the siren call of hallowed hall begins.
And I the child still feel the stomach knot of that unknown.

The boasting heat of Summer declares itself out loud,
yet we know it stands not long.
The late night smell of change gives fragile life away to hidden autumn.
It roars its heat like old men bluster of strength long gone.

Bend your will to the inevitable change.
Embrace the colored dance of coming Fall.
Look into the darkness and build yourself a fire,
for the warmth of winter is what we both have left.

~ bosco

Published by Dis-coarse

What I say here may or may not be important...you decide. Read my thoughts and know me. If you like what you see, reach out. If not, move on.

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