The autumn falls down around us as our summer fades into the memory. We have no long days left to bask in the sun; our days of lying together in the long grass are over now as the first ominous chills enter our very bones. Our young year is over now and there is no going back. Summer saw the end of springtime’s innocence, then, as our summer passed, we watched all that we have grown ripen ready for the harvest.
Autumn’s bright colours and sharp mornings, though, are enough for those of us who have reached this time in our year, who no longer yearn for those long summer days. Summer days when the time seemed so endless, and there wasn’t enough of it for all those dreams we had, so carefully, taken into those days with us.
Now, at summer’s end, we see where those dreams lie shattered on the beaches, ripped apart by the savage summer storms that tear through all our lives, leaving us only with the shattered memory of those once so-important dreams all broken in our despairing hands. For summer too has its hard, harsh days, despite the warm, despite the sun.
Our autumn will fade too; already we feel the sharpness of winter on each early morning breath we take, feeling the frost growing in the air around us. All too soon, this – our autumn – will be gone and we will struggle through our final darkening winter days in the heavy overcoats of those who know their all too brief year is almost done.
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