Summer begins fading away, and green leaves begin to radiate yellow.
Babies born in sweet summertime stop suckling on their mother’s breast and take their
first steps. Crying wanes and words begin to formulate; parents become sane once again. 
No more diapers and the first day of school, sent off in a big yellow school-bus matching 
the color of the leaves surrounding them, marking the end of summer.

The air becomes cooler, and the yellow hues melt to orange.
Dull silver Toyota Corolla, never having to ride that dreaded school-bus again. 
Responsibility heightens, and college begins. Four years, dozens of books opened, 
and thousands of pages read. First job, first apartment, maybe I’ll marry this person? 
I think I will marry this person, white train trailing down the aisle scattered 
with petals of orange begonia’s leading the way to forever. 

Wind whips bitterly, orange becomes burnt, darkening into deep red. 
Mini versions of you and me running around, 18 years of constant chaos. 
School, dinner, soccer practice. Their runny noses and scraped knees, scarlet blood dripping down 
little bruised legs onto crunchy leaves. Long embraces and so many “I love yous”, 
a couple “I hate yous” too. This time watching graduation from the audience, 
adjusting gowns while crying tears of joy. Strands of silver, wrinkles appear. 
Only a couple more years until we retire. 

Frost covers the grass in the early hours, red dries out to brown. 
40-hour weeks turn to dust. Let’s spend our winters in Florida. Browned skin makes 
grey hair look better, anyway. Maybe hide the wrinkles too. Visits from family, 
no more temper tantrums or snot-filled faces. They really do look like us now. 
A couple visits every year until we’re spending our winter months, 
and every month in dull nursing homes.

Wispy white flakes of snow scatter the ground amongst piles of dried up, crinkled leaves. 
Bare branches shake with loneliness. You pass first from skin cancer. 
Maybe those months spent in Florida could have been traded for a couple extra years. 
They were such good months, though. No one will ever hold my wrinkled body again, 
other than for the crabby CNA trying to give me a shower. I’m ready to go, I want to go. 
I lay in my death bed for months on end, until finally I am frozen in time, forever.