It starts with a sting
Back of the nose
Spreads to the eyes
An uncontrollable thing
A sleepless warning
Deep breaths
Face shut
Closed to the morning
Warmed by the sun
“Wake up!”
It demands
And casts shadows like webs spun
From your eyelashes, dripping
Your limbs sinking
Your mouth like sandpaper
Autumn’s coming
The air’s alive with heat
And wet
From scalp
And fingers down to feet
It feels like defeat
It feels like a summer wasted
Slept away
Nosferatu
Has probably tasted
More sun than you
Even though you still somehow managed to get burnt
And burned
And burned
And burned
In some kind of passion
Romantic? Hm.
That lasted,
For a bit.
Creative, then!
Skills mastered
And then... quit.
But you must have done something?
You know you’ve done things
Lots of things!
Plenty of things!
Although most of it,
Now that you think of it,
Was in spring.
Tch. Huh.
Autumn’s coming.
You can see it on the trees
Lush green
But then,
Just there,
The gradual browning of leaves
As the saturation gets duller
Green to yellow,
Briefly.
Your favourite colour
Both sunrise and sunset
Feasibly
Seasonal
In each season’s beset
But warm when Autumn’s coming
A little pick me up
When summer feels slept away
And you’ve done much of nothing