Season’s End
by Gay Williford

Now that summer’s gone, Nell weeps,
for days of fun she could not keep.
The barren sands upon the shore
whisper of times that are no more.

Sunbathers, swimmers–no longer seen …
now that summer’s gone, they keen.
Towels, sandals, beach balls–stored,
the much-used sailboat now is moored.

Sunscreen, coolers, frisbees–packed,
surfboards, inner tubes are stacked.
Now that summer’s gone–they sleep,
all grows cold, the snows now creep.

Only seagulls roam the beach,
icy winds–their claws do reach.
Missing sounds of laughter deep …
now that summer’s gone–Nell weeps.



 

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