A tapestry of color nature weaves,
Changing greens to red and gold,
Across high hills and valleys low.

Heated days now a memory leaves,
Spring's new life no longer bold.
Gone are warm winds that blow.

Summer's green packed in sheaves.
Tucked away for the coming cold.
Color soon traded for Winter's snow.

My mind foggy as it perceives,
I'm in the autumn of life's hold.
Most times I'm left eating crow.

Seasons pass quicker oh I grieves;
Now that I'm wrinkled grey and old.
Where the hell did my youth go?

Memories that another thieves!
Leaving me to dream of old.
That summer in the rivers flow,
My tears washed toward the sea,
Lost my youth and story's told.

“In youth, it was a way I had,
To do my best to please.
And change, with every passing lad
To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know
And do the things I do,
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you.”
~Dorothy Parker~