summers last stance

This is a poem I wrote about the end of our Indian summer.

Our Indian summer, invaded today.
Chunky thick clouds, come rolling this way.
Consuming our blue, by smudging in grey.
Riding the wind like horsemen they slay.

All that is summer,
the heat of the sun.
All that is summer,
late evenings of fun.

Summer grows weak, she tried to hold on
but the galloping clouds see summer has gone.