The air that comes in from the cold
Is cool upon my face –
A sign that summer’s growing old
And autumn takes its place.
The rains that fall no longer warm
But freeze me to the bone,
And vicious winds blow up a storm
With many a hollow moan.
And all this weather brings to mind
The day a year ago
When I was hopeless and resigned
And at my lowest low.
And then I chanced to meet a one
Who warmed me like the very sun.
Photo by Artem Sapegin on Unsplash
Reminiscence (2)
