Written in January. Go figure. Literature is a dual-edged sword.

I don't think I've ever seen the bright side of September.

The cold winds blow and you begin to know

the start of a winter chill.

It's not fair for me to blame my pain on poor September.

You've been gone and you left me so

helpless and weak with ill.

I know how it feels to be in the place of sad September;

wanting warmth and only getting rewards

due to a pretty face.

I just can't help what I feel about the lost September.

She treats me well and I'm sorry I fell

hard for fresh, new April.