Don't tell me

that you get sick of living

when the summer's so forgiving

although we have stolen

all of the things that we though

we had owned then

have disappeared



all these things in flavour

won't do you no favours

when the summer's light is fragrant

with scents of returning

you relent, you resent, now you're burning

for nothing to change....



there's something there...

(amongst the fallen fruit and flowers)

won't rest

(only minutes, only hours)

unless

(now the morning breaks in showers)

I guess

we'll remember this all of our lives

on the Last Good Day of The Year



all the leaves are turning

Autumn's fingers burnished

furnished here in hope and in faith in the meantime

kinda working my way through a dream I

was having alone



there's something there...

(amongst the fallen fruit and flowers)

won't rest

(only minutes, only hours)

unless

(now the morning breaks in showers)

I'm left

with the North Wind breathing down my neck...



on The Last Good Day of The Year.....

(don't know where I end and where you begin...)