Twilight September

I’m a little speechless, because these words speak so well about the passing of seasons and memories of our days gone by. Beautiful.

William Pearse | pinklightsabre

In the late afternoon shadows, by the underlit leaves, near a tree bent by the weight of its own fruit…in the breeze between summer and fall: there, in the crook of a bush by a rock I spied a colored egg overlooked last April, a memory of youth still sealed like a wish, better left to itself.

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