Most of the summer’s bedrooms now are empty;
stealthy ocher claims the neighbour trees:
evening’s amber skies complete the picture
in silence quite impossible before.

The screen doors used to slam too loud too often;
now insufficient are the outs and and ins:
the toys that filled all passage now are silent,
and silence makes these beauties seem obscene.

I wish the end of summer the beginning,
but lived for wishes push our lives away:
so I must take from this the precious instants
and of them make a dream, the cold to stay.

(Visited 24 times, 1 visits today)
FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in aging, Poetry, scapes and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.