Quietly the river flows,
cool and crisp on an autumn night.
Twinkling reminders of happier times,
memories slipping slowly from sight.
Fire flies glisten,
in and out they rapidly wink.
Sweet summer dying into a harsher time,
leave me not with these thoughts to think.
Cat tails hug the rivers hips,
emptily promising ne'er to let go.
But like all, cat tails shall fade,
sad fact the river doesn't know.
Water lilies, once so bright,
become a murky mess, tangling their roots.
Black velvet night becomes sharper,
as across it memorial stars tear and shoot.
Built to fade, to die again,
lovely scenes of natures own self-betrayal
played across a poet's lips
echoing her own innocence's fail.
**lol. love how i'm writing about summer dying when it just starts. O.O**
