I was once promised love until the End of Summer.

I always loved summer's ending. 
	The crickets calling out for cooler days. 
	The birds stirring, prepare to travel south for warmer lands. 
The shadows grow longer. 
	The days grow shorter. 

Now memories haunt me of that past. 
	The leaves begin to change and fall. 
Melancholy calls. 

It is bitter and it is sweet.

I miss you every day.