The final sounds of summer
Seem to fade as leaves descend
The ground is filled with color
My heart begins to mend
The springtime romance now is gone
The summer’s love is dead
It’s time to pick the pieces up
Time to make the bed
With every up there is a down
So why act so surprised?
Every start demands an end
Don’t say you weren’t advised
When summer’s here with clear blue skies
Your friends all make it known
But when the storm comes crashing down
We all must stand alone
Thal Dixon
Apropos Volume IV Number 3
February 1993
Apropos
