That time should be so rich yet fugitive a pageantry.
For sake it then awhile, and with us fly
Into the past where nothing now can die:
Where even the young and lovely, old and staid
Live on unchanged – of purest fantasy made.
Prologue – W. de la Mare
a few hydrangea,
a cluster of lilies, a dropping dahlia,
these are the last flowers of summer.
I say autumn is my favorite season but this cold, sad day I searched the garden for these last few flowers. I wanted to hold on to summer for just a little longer. I wanted to fly into the past where nothing now can die, where what is young and lovely live on unchanged.
And, those who hold me close know why I write these words. For all your love and understanding I am deeply grateful.