On a day in late October,
Summer summered one last time,
So I imagined I was back there
In that good old summertime.
The sun was bold, the air so still,
The sky a cloudless blue.
Blowflies darted door to door
As if the world was new.
“Come out and play,” the blowflies chittered,
So I followed them outside.
I drank the golden cup of summer
Oblivious to Autumn’s lie.
Though leaves around my feet had fallen
And hardwood trees were bare,
I pretended it was summer
Letting go of all my cares.
The coming winter chilled me not
When normally it would.
I thought if I could hold this summer,
It would surely do me good.
When deep in winter’s darkest days
With hope of spring so dim,
If I could hold this summer in me
I’d see it once again.
