O! My Fall,
You are –Remembered–
And perhaps more still,
The end of summer.

Life's found with winter,
And seeing spring
Of this, my year,
Wants once nothing –more
Than to stay just here,
Perhaps all in fear.

As summer came,
She did take wing
Without call or care.
She was My Spring,
And I longed for her
With words,
"I've found My Break to Summer
But wish things new again."

But never they were;
Never could they be.

Summer is the shortest of seasons
–Perhaps not but in relative time–
And only so because she's come,
Leaving me humbled for-
Ever wanting anyone
But Autumn,
If this I may call you?