Pretty mornings and September,
A wind that blows across the land,
Takes with it the dying ember,
The fire, memories, an epoch and,
Leaves in wake some withered flowers,
Tousled hair, a transcendence,
Candy stained lips at early hours,
An aftertaste of ambivalence.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC
Pretty mornings and September,
A wind that blows across the land,
Takes with it the dying ember,
The fire, memories, an epoch and,
Leaves in wake some withered flowers,
Tousled hair, a transcendence,
Candy stained lips at early hours,
An aftertaste of ambivalence.
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