So you leave, without a backward glance
And you leave without a good bye.
What about those who will miss you
And what happens to those you leave behind?
As the year advances towards closure
And the colder months draw nearer,
The days draw the evenings closer,
The nights, longer and more intimate.
The leaves change colour and gently drift off
And hidden branches reach out their spidery fingers
To trap the colours of the late evening sky.