A Small Memory

A Small Memory

By Ben Macnair

The summer ended at 4.00 this afternoon,

Clouds were a smudge of white against a darkening sky.

Autumn  started at 5.00 pm

There was a genocide of healthy leaves,

Crunching under the feet of children.

A boy of 5 rides his new blue scooter through the park.

Its lustrous sheen betrays the rusting, spiderweb-encrusted

existence of its shed-bound future.

His sister pushes her rusting bike,

trying to keep up, but knowing that she can’t.

Winter began at 5.30 pm,

Its malicious winds, and silent threats

a mere promise of what it could be.