How easily you fade from me -

the silence striking, as
the angel of morning
wears faintly his dark shadow
on the window's awning,

and the receding meadows
suspend now without sonnets,
as the seasonal chorus labors
to sing reveille,

oh how you leave me love,
so easily;

your song ringing loud and shrill,
as it strains on its final notes,

and i can only pull tightly
the summer covers,

and pretend i hadn't noticed
the end is coming.