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.