Răspuns:
After a hot summer with long, clear days, autumn had made its first appearances. The corn was already harvested, the fields were golden brown waiting to be harvested.
Today, the sky was for the first time in a long time a color that predicted the storm. I was in my grandmother's garden, I was thinking ... I did not want to leave that wonderful place where I had spent the summer and the first part of autumn. I have the feeling that my departure will bring a great natural catastrophe, the wilting of the leaves. I was right the leaves will fade with my departure. I took in the last rose in the garden, inspired its wonderful aroma for the last time this year and sighed. Winter with its huge bricks and its white coat was about to appear shortly. This thought taught me a little.
A familiar voice was heard, it was my mother, she had come to call me at the table. I followed her quietly towards the past summer which now seemed very far away, I also left behind and followed my mother to the future which did not seem so sad and meaningless now.
