EPISODE · Oct 10, 2022 · 0 MIN
Summer’s Last
from Tales from the edge of the morning sky · host Paul Morris
Send us Fan MailSummer’s last I left the summer this evening, quietly walking home, as she whispered across the fields, for I could see she was alone, for above the stars were weeping, many slipping from the evening sky, ‘farewell,’ they seemed to tremble, as she bowed to the harvest moon, and sang a slow goodbye, And in her arms were apples full and rounded, blushing, from the late afternoon sun, So I stopped took one,and listened to the silence, the last of summer to remember, the memories and laughter, in colour the fallen leavesthat autumnhad left undone.Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me [email protected]
What this episode covers
Send us Fan Mail Summer’s last I left the summer this evening, quietly walking home, as she whispered across the fields, for I could see she was alone, for above the stars were weeping, many slipping from the evening sky, ‘farewell,’ they seemed to tremble, as she bowed to the harvest moon, and sang a slow goodbye, And in her arms were apples&nb...
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Summer’s Last
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