A darkness, the gloaming,
Passes through the hill
Terminating summer
And the remainder of our laughter

Now I halt at the ****** of my tracks—
Awaiting, anticipating, yearning for the best
The best has passed!
Or perhaps was never intended

Not for now, not this fall,
Not ever, at least for me—
Should I accept that?
Or never lapse under the weight

The weight of autumn,
Jubilation evanesced
Apperception of edging expiry
The beginning of absolute rest

A failed romance,
Deteriorated to the end
And leaves you ruminating,
“What could have been…"