It is summer yet
The leaves can still be found
Strewing the ground.
Shall I regret
The gray hair
Where
There remains no trace of brown?
The longest day of the year
Will soon be here
Ere Autumn throws
Her clothes
All haphazard down.
I shall in beauty drown
For our little moon
Is gone too soon
While nature’s store
Remains as before.
REally nice, Kevin.
Thank you, Robbie. Best – Kevin