Light falls through changing leaves,
Pages in history like a book
telling the same tale year after year.
Green grass (below) between flowers in bloom,
these too will soon change
as cold air wilts and time ends these living things.
I smell this flower,
so sweet I dare not think
of how it will soon be no more.
Petals soft against skin,
these things of Summer,
these things of youth.
Soft as the touch
I search for things so young
to remind myself of a former time
when all was naive and fresh and not so cruel.
Soft touch lingering
growing passions found
as a blossoming thing
tasted like honey
so sweet are the things of Summer:
the things of youth.
Summer is youth
as Spring is a child
waking from a deep sleep.
Summer is youth:
a ripe peach
waiting for me,
but now Fall is announced
with changes to come
as in the leaves fallng down.
One more look at youth,
Summer,
the curves of land
take us to the ripe fruit hanging.
I long for the fruits of Summer,
the fruits of youth,
peaches and berries
ripe and juicy
now a distant memory
of days long ago.