AUTUMN FAIR

I just stood in the kitchen and watched the sun hanging low through the trees. The lake was like gold, shimmering and sparkling in the early evening. Long shadows fell across the grass, criss-crossing under a pattern of crunchy leaves.

I shut the fridge door and took a sip of tea. There should be a name for today, the first Monday after the clock-change. A couple of years ago, on the equivalent day, I had an afternoon meeting in a room with no windows: I couldn't believe it when we emerged to black skies and lit streetlamps.

Anyway, as I stood there looking out across the lake, I thought about a poem I wrote a while ago and despite the fact that it's a little out of date, it still seems like a good day to post it. It's called Autumn Fair.

Autumn Fair

When I was little, I remember,
Crispy days in late September:
Summer sun and chilly breeze
That rippled through the golden leaves
And I remember sun-kissed grass
With shadows falling, long and fast
And silver light between the trees
That winked goodnight with silent ease

Oh I remember Autumn nights
With twinkled stars and fairy lights
A woollen scarf my Grandma knit
A duffel coat that tightly fit
And all around the ones I loved
In woolly hats and matching gloves.
The velvet night fell fast and fair
As laughter filled the frozen air

When I was little, I remember,
Autumn days in late September
And I remember you were there
To smile and sing the Autumn fair,
To hold my hand through chilly night
Through winter’s grip and heartless bite
And I remember, and yet will
That through it all, you’re with me still.