The trees trembled, kissed by the cold wind,
their leaves raining down in a riot of color.
Somehow the light was different, softer, everything changing,
and I wasn’t ready.
I clung to the warmth of the summer past, the perfume of flowers and the joy of carefree days.
I clung to my youth and to the possibilities that no longer were;
But the season’s change beckoned with a siren song, inevitable,
and I could no longer live in the shadows of time gone by.
A life lived is in this moment,
and so I cling to the beauty of now,
to the wisdom of age,
and to the possibilities that unfold with each and every breath I take.