Soon Autumn 
will be here
with it's dusty
and driving breeze
across fields
from the back of your house
where poppies would
previously dance with you
now spit in your face. 

Autumn will hold your hand
when you run
to the train station
every morning
jagged with purpose
like it was
famous for 15 seconds.


Soon Autumn will be here
and on the road again
with leaves dangling
in the middle
of your garden
like a radiogram
of a old film.

Summer will be
dangling from a distance
just slightly out of reach
almost like a party
you had not been invited to
before the cold weather comes,

leaving,

leaving,


you wondering had it gone
before it had really started
returning to the small ads.