Crunchy leaves
brown, orange, yellow
Under my feet.

I

try to step lightly
But
It is no use.
The bench is empty,

Waiting for my company.
The swing set too

Swings so lonely.
Rusty bolts add color to the gray.
The schoolchildren
Are tending to books
Now.
I am trying to count the clouds
But
They join into one and block the sun.
Summer;
Summer
Ran away.