October has a lot going on, My birthday my mother's passing I also went to jail.
So much more just not enough time.
Colorful leaves and a warm breeze.
Maybe one day I will love October again.
As for now I take the heartache that comes.
Oh October you used to make me smile.
Eight more months to go until you arrive.
I'll see you then with tears in my eyes.

I look at my Hands often, wrinkled and old.What a story to be told.
These hands have held, hugged and fought.So many many bags that were bought.
They fumble sometimes but that's alright because they are mine.Dry and rough but best believe they are tough.
The older they get the better they are. I remember that scar and that one to.
Such memories these hands of mine, that I will always treasure until the end of time.