summer's end

All the gulls become crows
And the trails become roads

The time you have to play each day
Goes with the sun to far away.
For half a year it there will stay
And reappear just after May

There are far fewer rays of sunlight which we must evade
We have less opportunity to sit in the cool shade

The solar orb which almost used to be as white as bleach
Has darkened to the colour of an over-ripened peach

The people we were free from as we ran across the beach
Return again and now we have to listen to them teach
It's time once more to work our way through yet another grade

The end of summer leaves us with a lack of lemonade

And the green becomes gold
And the warm becomes cold.

- Wesley May 2006

Wesley presented this poem to me as part of my birthday present. What a special gift.