By the babbling brook, I lay next to the old Oak tree where I once played.
Summer left late yesterday, it caught the last day’s train.
The gentle warm breeze where I once flew has turned slightly cool.
I feel the chill slowly seeping in, this summers been really great.
But like all good things that must come to an end, this golden leaf will just lay here and wait. To crumble and be blown away in the cold winters day, to some magical summer forest far away.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Joaquin Cajiao.
Published on e-Stories.org on 02/25/2009.
Dear Joaquin, a wonderful poem about the end of summer and a golden leaf that remains of sunny autumn days. Regards, Inge
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