Last September

Waves crash on shorelines;

tumbling stones, setting leaves

out to the sea. Foliage turn vibrant

within the alleys of lonesome streets.

September is music, spinning records

between pauses like a memory gone too soon. Missed chances to make more of the present,

before it's no longer within grasp.

September is abandoned buildings along sidewalks countless pass by, reclaiming the love beared. Reliving what has since changed.

I don't want to leave this place behind,

fulfill promises that the seasons hold me to dearly. With their hand clasped in mine.