Dear Summer

she read

in the narrowing

of the light.

I come as Autumn,

in breaths and shadows,

to claim your crown.

And she sighs,

this day was

always coming,

as it always does,

the day when her

emerald gown

will slip seductively

from her shoulders

and shiver

with the sinking

September sun,

a mercurial fall,

trailing in caramel golds,

through brittle carpets,

vulnerable but

no surrender,

teasing and tempting,

threading pearls

of sunshine

through the clawing

fingers of Fall,

a trespassing tenure

after sandcastles

are scaled and

footprints meet

watery graves.

Nicky Lloyd

October 2017