The summer’s sun is now but a memory.
And like everything else which we once loved, it has left us too soon.
The seagulls have reclaimed the beaches and I feel like an old ghost walking amongst them on the shoreline.
The days are getting darker, earlier, and the cold winter is foreshadowed in this breeze.
I imagine the seagulls are angels in bird bodies as they screech to me.
“Like everything else, summers come and go but always remember to be the source of your own light,” they say.
I smile a slight smile and walk on.