i looked out the window today,
to try and catch a last glimpse
of summer innocence:
pure green,
bright like happiness,
some tinged with a golden kind
of yellowness.
but in the corner there was
a stripe of red:
a branch of leaves
on that drooping willow tree
had already taken on
the russet coat of fall.
i'll say good-bye to summer
but i won't to you;
i'll say good-bye to summer
but i won't
to you.
