Everything dies in September.
I feel you lurking.
Taking back what you once gave.
Petty petals off your stem digress
as downed autumn leaves to ground
caress
and still, you want more.
For the taking is all yours.
Her sweet perfume six feet does lie,
beside her tomb, her alibi.
Ten years and four since seen her face,
shadows dawn where memories once
placed.
And then there’s them, the pale and
fresh,
the ones we knew, the ones we kept
close at heart til hearts burned out
and silenced words that once did shout.
For them we cringe when September calls,
to count your wins and lay them all
beneath the earth in caskets cold
to lay for years while the living
stroll.
But little you doth know of this
but He who died for us to live
has saved for us a Kingdom Come
and
there they wait to welcome us home.
