The season of lasts
Soft footfalls echoing through aisles long vacant,
Laughter in peals, unexplained and pleasant,
Shreds of conversation, merry and inane,
A mere touch of love, to forever things change,
And dollops of friendship, over the years to remain,
In memories such the mind abounds,
Reveling in an empty theatre of sounds.
Pensive is the moment, melancholy the air,
As illusions of permanency, now lie threadbare,
And the weather changes on a whim, drastically,
As the season of lasts dawns for all to see.
The summer sun also shall not last for long,
It will give in too, to farewells and swansongs.
Someday ages and ages from today,
We shall forget the pangs of going away,
And maybe meet again, like the times of old,
And regale each other with tales banal and untold,
But my friend now, as the time of parting nears,
Good cheer gives way to nostalgia and fears.
And as blustering storm clouds yonder catch the eyes,
All that remain are the first rains, and the last goodbyes.
