The last gray rays of sun
Meet the water, the day sleeps
The lyrics of old camp songs
Create melodies in my mind
I could sing them to empty halls
I could sing them to the lake
Tomorrow, maybe
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
The sky is orange on the bike ride
The wind whipping the waves into white caps
It’s sweatshirt weather in the evenings
It’s hot tub weather in the evenings
Soon enough we’ll be naming the stars after dinner
Or maybe this winter will look nothing like the last
Seasons are never quite the same
The world spins, and we change with it
Our identities spiral around the same truths
A million different angles to discover who we are
It gets easier, with every spin, to fall in love with what I find
Time gets a bad reputation, she’s mostly kind
With Love,
Natalie