Summer Days
Summer days are gone in a haze
of sweet memories,
The smell of flowers and new mown hay
Floating on the breeze,
The wafting scent of a barbecue
And the sound of clinking glass,
The feel of the sun’s rays
On my skin,
And the hope that
clear skies last.
Then comes the day
When the wind does change
And I sense a different feel,
Of damp and coldness in the air,
A breeze that starts to chill,
And then I know its the end of
Summer
For another year,
And I store those memories away
For when dark days appear.
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