A darkness, the gloaming,
Passes through the hill
Terminating summer
And the remainder of our laughter
Now I halt at the climax 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…"