I can sense it in the falling dark.
I can taste it on the August breeze.
I can hear it in the cry of gulls.
I can smell it in the burned out days.
I can see it in my silent reflection.
I can feel it shivering against my skin.
I can touch it as it comes up close.
Everything is changing.
Nothing will ever
be the same.
© the author writing as Romantic Dominant
Art by Anne Magill