Season

Season endthe morning scents ofcrisp cold days tocome. Apples ripenow summer’s just a dream; sun drenchedscenes, supper underAugust moon wine & song;back then it seemedthat laughter'd never end. Herecherry tree has losther glow, cloudsroll in: for you&  me another yearplucks with unknownfingers whispers‘sleep’ autumn mist&  memories.