Sonnet to Next Year

As summer days come to an early end

And the leaves on trees turn to an orange-red,

I will look back on good times and good friends,

And my feet will start to slow and be led.

I shall not wish to leave in past,

That which is the fondest of all my dreams.

Once the portal is crossed that is the last,

And no longer shall things be as they seem.

I now tread the line between child and not,

But the scales shall be tipped next year.

Then I will know what is my correct lot

And not look back with more than a single tear.

But I wish not for things to change so,

For then there will be so much I don’t know.