Original Poems

september doesn’t owe us…

september doesn’t owe us any more;
it paid its dues in seasons of the past —
we’ll be so glad when autumn’s here at last,
to finally shut the fervid summer’s door

we wish september well: let it unwind,
as all its tales of dawning hope unfold;
and even wish, if we may be so bold,
to cherish it when it’s been left
behind

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