The Way Summer Turns to Fall

It carries on the last bit of her laughter,

That last breath hanging in the air,

Just for a moment.

When every piece of her

Comes forth in smile and laugh,

Like some restrained ecstasy

Seeming ready to burst.

Then floating off,

Then, stillness.

She moves with purpose now,

But with a strange habit of

Great drifting circles and musings,

Like a big river, meandering, eddying, floating,

And, in time, maybe, finding itself again

Where the wandering currents combine,

And move onward to far off places.

She tells the story ever so carefully,

A story told again and again,

A story of places, a story of movement

All the while,

Her arms carry it along,

Her hands bring life to those places,

Her voice fills me.

Then, the long pause in her eyes.

Long after the last piece of laughter

Had vanished into a long wait

A fear comes over me,

If only I could sit still then, instead I’m frozen

Again.

This is my one chance, before I miss it all.

Again.

You see,

Hers is a story of the way things are right now.

Not what will be, as I want to think.

Nor just the way I remember it.

In that kind of way that memories can become.

Maybe,

Someday, I say, I will get the joy,

The essence, see that moment

when her laugh never stops.

Enter her stillness where we trace those circles,

Recounting the stories again, all full of life

And look out from her eyes

Onto the way things really are.

2 thoughts on “The Way Summer Turns to Fall

  1. I really like your poetry, Sam. It’s very somber and nostalgic, but somehow seems to skirt away from being depressing.

    1. Thanks Zach – I received a comment that it was too worrisome, so I reworked it into a, hopefully, less worrisome version.
      Sounds like you are having an epic time in Mexico – keep it up!

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