DRAFT In progress………
In August,
we thought we had forgotten.
And upon arrival,
We realized we had to just continue.
“I will never leave you.”
Whispers old lady summer.
By September, a rhythm
Only upset by a single cold morning.
“Aren’t I beautiful?”
In October a hope arises,
None of this will end.
“Stand by me, my sweets.”
By November,
Moments can be perfect, fragile, then lost.
“Please, not now… Why?”
In December,
The last leaf falls
On a rising wind
And we hope we will never forget.
“Because we will meet again.”
Shaken Rain 