Fall Almost

Summer’s sun thins to cloud and mist,

Sky-blue being washed out to grey,

Faces recently uplifted

Fade and pale and turn away.

Autumn colours quietly arrayed,

Gilded leaves shading to brown

Until gathering winter winds,

With cold fingers, pluck them down.

While she of four score years and ten,

Who’s the last of all she knew,

Accepts now her season has gone,

Feels she’s had more than her due.

There may still be sun yet to come,

But even so, days grow small,

Summer passes to memory,

Then will slip beyond recall.

Dave Alton