fall days
with the leaves blowing in my yard
dead parts
of a tree that was once so green

but the tree’s still growing
and so am i —

fall days
winter breeze putting me on guard
cold hearts
from a soft, southern summer scene

but the heart’s still going
and so am i —

these are the days
that the summer’s left behind
these are the times
when the grapes turn to sour wine
these are the days of the fall
but it won’t be mine

these are the days
that the summer’s left behind
these are the times
when the grapes turn to sour wine
these are the days of the fall
but it won’t be mine

(c) 1998, by me under another name