The problem with Summer is that it slowly fades from view,
sinking below the distant horizon and burning memory,
never seeming to last long enough.
Summer pushes away towards autumn and then winter an inevitable collision of contrasts,
counted and remembered in birthdays,
marking the passage of time.
The problem with winter is that it never seems to end,
with its short days and those frenzied holidays that make the march of time seem so slow,
as if the sun has hidden itself,
intesified by our longing for the days of June and July.
Because in those days everything feels so alive,
even though we have to embrace the slowly fading season over and over again...
T.S Deary
P.A.F.M.
7/3 - 8/9/24
Leave a comment