The afternoon begins to lose its gold,As shadows stretch across the wooden floor,The autumn air is turning crisp and cold,And summer's vibrant breath is heard no more.Yet in this shift, a quiet truth is told,That every season opens up a door,The fading light is beautiful and bold,A richer treasure than we prized before.We need not fear the winter's coming chill,Nor mourn the sunny days we leave behind,For peace resides upon the silent hill,And hidden gems are there for us to find.The twilight whispers softly to the earth:Each ending is the seed of some rebirth.
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