Painting by Gebhard Fugel
All things end in sadness,
If only because all things must end,
All the summer-sweet memories,
Tinged with bitter brown,
Now that the page is turned,
The petals fallen.
What once was vivid, ice-bright,
To make the skin tingle with that almost touch,
Sifts now, sand-dry, through scrabbling fingers.
The past casts its dusty veil,
Tidies happiness away into a dingy box,
Where sunlight will never fall again,
And all the tears shed in joy,
A simple presage of last tears of sorrow.