You may think me sorrowful and melancholy,
mourning summer’s demise with downcast eyes;
you may think me pensive and preoccupied
and you would be right, but only partly so.
True, this stream has nurtured me, offered
sanctuary from youth’s raw turbulence;
the silent pool reflected childhood slights,
the silver birches healed my first broken heart.
But now there comes a different age,
a time to turn away from childish things, a time
to temper innocence with faltering experience.
I see autumn burning bright beyond this glade,
and as the leaving birds turn towards the south
my senses thrill as my time to fly draws near.
Diana Cant is a child and adolescent psychotherapist, just completing an MA in Poetry Writing from Newcastle University, studying at the Poetry School in London. Her poems have been published in the NHS Anthology, Humanagerie, and Eighty Four; and in Ink, Sweat and Tears, Nine Muses Poetry and Allegro.