Fall Dusk in Land Park
Hour of shadows
Night creeping through the trees
Season passing
Chill breeze.
No more evening picnics,
Their pale lamp lights
Beneath dark leaves.
Night creeping through the trees
Season passing
Chill breeze.
No more evening picnics,
Their pale lamp lights
Beneath dark leaves.
I will miss July
When autumn ends
And yards begin to freeze …
Who doesn’t have these thoughts?
Feel another year go by?
