The end of the summer

The trees are still so green
Branches glancing against branch
Sun alighting on the last leaves,
Barely there.
The scent of summer senses echoes,
Enters your nostrils
Leads you dancing into meadows
Pastures new.
You escape,
Day-dreamer.
The boy playing the guitar
Catches you, as you flee
You retrieve your memory:
Where you are;
Who you are;
What you need to do.
The task.
On your return;
Ashamed, you glance away.