Fall Prom, Summer’s Gone
A City’s two tails
I found two paths in Coimbra, walking in morning’s autumn breath,
I stood before them, pondering, as summer's warmth fades to an early death.
One led to sunlit streets aglow with laughter and mirth,
The other to the shadowed lanes where melancholy finds its birth.
I gazed upon the cobblestones, once kissed by summer's grace,
Now scattered with golden leaves in a melancholy embrace.
In this ancient city, where Fado songs write history’s long scrawl,
I faced the choice before me, the fading season's haunting call.
The first path beckoned brightly, with festivals and cheer,
Yet the second whispered softly of solitude drawing near.
I took a step in memories to brace the autumn's chill,
For in the change of season, I longed for a different beauty still.
Coimbra's soul revealed itself, in summer's joy and sorrow,
And I chose the path of autumn, remembering word’s of Thoreau.
Two paths converged in Portugal, where seasons gently meld,
And in that fleeting moment, the story of change I beheld.
The Mondego River whispered secrets of the city's past,
Reflecting ancient arches, in its waters, shadows cast.
Beside it stood the city, where history's tales are swirled,
A contrast to the Choupal's forest, with the majesty of the natural world.
In Coimbra's dual beauty, in seasons' ebb and flow,
The Mondego and Choupal tell different tales of long ago.
Two paths converged by waters, where nature met this town,
And in that moment's reflection, I felt life's rhythms all around.