Summer is over, the world has ended;
who can live now, without scented remembering
reminding them of times well spent,
of gentle sunrises and starry warm nights.

Nostalgia burns through my veins,
I close my eyes and I am in the sand, in the water, on a lovely beach,
sleeping late, and letting the noon sun wake me,
harsh glare through cheap shutters.

Now the nights are not all burnt breeze,
and the West wind reminds us of the long, cold, wet months ahead, 
and we huddle together in front of the fire,
warm with the embers of holiday memories.

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