under a cerulean October sky
brush-stroked white by the gods.
A magpie perches on a branch, birds sing
and the sound of a mower can be heard.
This is surely the most picturesque time
storms will come but for now it is sublime.
But then he recalls years gone by
sitting with his love on this very seat
which crumbles like his ageing limbs.
Yet days such as this are to be savoured
and he locks sad thoughts away
for this is a sight to truly adore
when the tree has transformed to gold...once more.