The treacherous clouds,
The reckless gales
Sweep through with the turbulence of October.
Old Equinox, scattering wide-spread sails,
Tumbles their lives--
Suddenly summer has blown away--
Oh so much more then just a summer:
Joy, and Time.
A dream. A rhyme.
Then, their gifts--unknown, unspoken,
As years rearrange.
Should she have known
That she was the Equinox?
She was change?