The candles flicker in the twilight-stained air;
their feeble flames trying to ward off the gentle whispers that foreshadow the grand entrance of winter that waft through the open windows.
Now I sit,
enveloped in the warmth of a cozy sweater borrowed from a lover who, to me, had a heart warmer than the mug that I clutch between my palms and sweeter than its contents.
I reminisce about the warm, shimmering nights
that have slipped by silently.
Somewhere, I imagine a bonfire cracks the dark sky while old friends gather around Laughing, Singing, Celebrating; appreciating the still night.
We try to cling to the shreds of summer. Yet, it’s inevitable. No matter how tight we hold on, summer always slips through our grasp as we pass through the gateway of autumn.