Imprints

Summer slipped away, fading light on my skin,

I glanced in the mirror, where pale legs begin.

A sharp line of brown, a sun's fleeting kiss,

reminding me of laughter, of warmth, and of bliss.

The neighbor's barbecue, the laughter we shared,

tan lines like stories, of time when we dared.

Yet now as I look, a chill pulls the shade,

those moments of light seem so quickly betrayed.

Skin speaks in shadows of moments we cherish,

the imprint of summer, a warmth we can perish.

As seasons change color and nights grow so long,

the trace of those days still echoes in song.