The months I’ve been chasing
have passed.
I am left with a year of clarity,
September’s Spring, the tale of another promising Summer,
I’ll spend chasing the bits I have lost
Among the bits of August
Unkissed, unseen by the sun

And along comes a new year,
To all our great infortunes,
It is never lost, never late
To insistently sweep me off course,
And deliver me to my fate.

Oh, there comes my new lover,
In their ever-changing image.
To break my bruised fall into
Another loveless winter.