The Books that Never made it

The goodbye of summer

         The rain tapped on the window that fogged in a round cloud with my breath.

It was colorless outside. It was clear summer had faded away. It melted in the rain that poured down like something had squeezed a wet sponge in the sky. The leaves began to fade to a russet orange and sour sickly looking yellow that flew peacefully to the earth.

There was no longer the smell of cooking steaks and burgers on barbeques and the sound of laughter from the children as they danced through the sprinklers and splashed in the pools. It was the scent of a coming autumn, the smell of chimney smoke that greyed the sky and the smell of apple cinnamon and turkeys.

    As the seasons changed, a new character built in the days that seemed to grow shorter and shorter, darker and whiter.

It was the time of feasts, apple cider, black festive nights, and the colors of orange and red. School would soon be in session and schedules would be pretty much back to regular. I would be in the comfort of my friends, while my brain was hard at work with the daily exercises the teachers would have prepared for me.

    As I watched the rain fall to the ground, I glanced up to the smoky clouds that parted, and a single ray of sun shone through the crack as if a hot tendril of the sun waved goodbye.

I soon closed my eyes and said goodbye as I felt the summer sun faded into the dark shadow of approaching winter.