• A seasonal poem…

And every year in August we say – the nights are drawing in,
already the leaves are starting to turn, yet only yesterday it was Spring.
Summer’s short lease is reaching its date, Midsummer Night is long gone.
Summers fly by in the Autumn of life and Winter can seem too long.
But remember Septembers and Indian Summers
that we knew when we were young, when gardens are bathed in soft golden light
and it’s not too hot to sit in the sun.

FRANCES LEE
NW1