Leaves Unhung

A summer full of
hot wrung days
and blissful rays.
We played
among the painted
rooms,
A stiff thick air
moving through
the fume.
The days flew by,
one by one,
and slowly turned
to leaves unhung.
The busy hours
speeding by,
A casual visit
beneath the empty sighs.
The unknown silence,
comfort,
play,
it disappeared, as I couldn't stay.
But it's still here.
Somewhere.
Until that dreadful day
you choose to walk away.
Until the end of warmth and heat.
Until the end of winter's fleet.
Until the looming day
you'll end up far away.