Dying Of Old Age

Those orange flowers in the grass by the river in the sun gave way to the boats and the waves and the ducks and the lapping, and it was so warm to the face, and we thought to ourselves that perfect day, "let's lap up summer, while it's here."

And we played. And then we played. The amber bees that borrowed the nectar from the flowers that swayed in the slowly breaking breeze. And it was so calm to the face, and we thought, "let's lap up the summer, while we're here."

Sooner or later, the snow began to fall, and we played, and played like we loved it,
with the laughter and the blizzard and the freeze, so hard on memories.
And I said to myself that day, "Goodbye everything".