Dying Season
“I like this time of year,” she said.
“I just like this time of year.
It’s all the wonderful colours
And that crisp scent in the air.
But just like the core of a bruise
These colours will fade and die.
But just for this split second,” she sighs,
“This time of year could make me cry.”
The golden hues of Autumn
They fortell a dying season
And she watches as the colours fade away.
It’s the wicked grasp of Winter
The loneliness – no rhyme or reason
And she wishes for a lighter kind of day.
I’m in love with the colors you make me think of, and you remind me of those strange feelings that come over us in Autumn and when the season starts to change.
It’s kind of like life, that change. Everything is colorful and on fire but it slowly fades to gray. Then a new color explodes and it all starts over.
Not a terribly original thought, on my part.
But it is what I think of all the same
Samantha
theartisticalife.wordpress.com
Very nice. I could see the colors. Then I imagined the bare tree limbs of winter. Thanks.
Carolyn/internetelias.wordpress.com