the trees know
that they have to die
to the spring blossom
when their time comes.
no matters if
crazy weather
resurrects summer
in October.
The heat can deceive
the lost souls
who only look
the thermometers of life.
But time moves on
relentless without stopping
to rest on an empty bench
to lengthen the days
I brush away the fallen leaves
to sit down and contemplate
the golden sunset
That comes earlier each day
With the last lights
I look for the way back
To squeeze the seconds
which remains
Before arriving
to that longed-for world
where nothing is lost
and time is just a memory.
The night falls
and with it, the vain illusion
of an eternal summer
in this finite landscape
of my counted days.
