Summer’ Last Breath

We played upon the gentle graces of Summer’s last breath.

Between tree and water, our lives stood still.

Before us lay a pool of inspiration,

Waiting to be released upon willing minds.

The sun warmed our skin, even as a whisper of fall came calling.

Around us, leaves began to turn and our very bones felt a subtle shift.

“Winter is coming.” The earth spoke to us.

-M.E. InkOwl


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