I had previously tinkered with the idea of the ‘last weekend of summer’ many years ago. I thought it sounded evocative of an ending, that sadness you feel inside when the days start shortening and leaves start turning.
I can still hear the melody I wrote back then. But it wasn’t right. So I rewrote it. Turns out the birds know when it's time to go.
Image: Frank Mckenna on unsplash.com
LAST WEEKEND OF SUMMER
Don’t dare move
You’re in the perfect light
It’s how I’ll remember you
This warm September night
The sky still cares
And the sun is hanging on
I’m too scared to breathe
In case I find they’ve gone
Time won’t wait around it’s true
One summer is enough for you
CHORUS
The birds still sing
But they know the time has come
To take to the wing
Flying to a better place beyond the sun
It’s telling me
Our last weekend of summer’s gone
The autumn rain
Will turn the leaves to rust
Like your corrosive love
That burns away my trust
So things will change
I can see it in your eyes
They’ve turned from green to brown
I guess it’s no surprise
It’s kinder to be cruel you say
So this will be our final day
CHORUS
Looking up
I see a star
And I wonder where you are
Looking back
Won’t take me far
And I still wonder where you are
© ANDY BARKER JANUARY 2017
