I only write when I am inspired, and unfortunately, it's often at times when I am not able to jot anything down, like on my way to work. I tried to keep this one rolling around in my head through out my day to not lose it.
~k
Heyday of Summer
has come and gone,
sad echos reside
in the Cricket's song.
Once a mighty chorus
that played day and night,
a concerto of Summer
"The Cricket's Flight."
Days wane towards Autumn,
Summer green growing faint;
flowers past their prime,
leaves waiting golden paint.
One lonely cricket,
without accompaniment,
fiddles his sad song
"Summer's End", a lament.
Nights grow cooler,
Summer's songs slowly die;
soft last serenade,
he plays to night's starry sky.
~k
Heyday of Summer
sad echos reside
in the Cricket's song.
Once a mighty chorus
that played day and night,
a concerto of Summer
"The Cricket's Flight."
Days wane towards Autumn,
Summer green growing faint;
flowers past their prime,
leaves waiting golden paint.
One lonely cricket,
without accompaniment,
fiddles his sad song
"Summer's End", a lament.
Nights grow cooler,
Summer's songs slowly die;
soft last serenade,
he plays to night's starry sky.
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