Darker and heavier skies bleed the city of light, The first specks of rain hit the tired, sun fried, foot worn pavements And I feel summer sink into my socked ankles.
Archibald Brown, man around town, locks up his sunshade, The wind lifts rotting fence panels like discarded betting slips And I smell winter rising in my rattling chest.
Rain on the window, like Mercury drops on a mirror, Through clouded milk bottle glasses I peer at grey sky and flat green trees, And I sense Summers end.