August,
We meet again
In up to 120° weather,
You blister and redden my skin
You cause me to ache
True,
You're only there for about two weeks in August
And those two weeks
They're the worst part
They cause some to lose interest
Those who feel
They have something better to do
But I know better...

September,
We're getting closer.
Everyone flipping out
On how much time you take up
We told you it was a big commitment!
We always tell them
Yet they still whine and whine
And say how they can't wait for it to end
As for me,
I bask in you
Temps are still high,
Days are still long,
The grass still a little green
Muscles still ache
But temps are going down
Days getting shorter
The grass is dying
Muscles are getting stronger
Everyone is getting closer to eachother
Making friends,
Finding meaning in the music and dots
If only barely

October,
Probably the busiest month of the four
All day competitions
Every Saturday
Now you're taking up
A LOT of time
And we got it all locked in now
Everything memorized
Ready to compete and win
For us,
These competitions are no big deal.
We are the best at what we do,
So we're never surprised we always get first
Now I'm not trying to sound cocky,
But It's only the truth
I'd be lying if I said
There was someone better than us
In our Silver State
But that's beside the point,
People are now freaking out on a larger scale
One month left
They all realize with horror
Especially the upper class men
Who're getting close to the end
The end of the thing they love

November,
The coldest month of the four
The most important one
This is the month we worry about
This is the month we work for
This is where we show our true colors
Where we try to see truly how good we are
BOAs
The most important
One in the Beehive State,
One in the Golden State.
We are usually the only reps for our state
And we face actual competition
People better than us
Freshmen,
To them it's just another competition
But to the older, experienced ones,
These are competitions to worry about
The ones where everything actually matters
Where people cry,
Either for defeat or victory.
These ones we're not the best.
But we're apparently good enough
To make it into finals each time
But here in this month
We arrive at the end
And those who wished for the end
Are now feeling like idiots for wanting the end to this magnificent journey
And those who bask in it
Like yours truly
We cry, oh we cry
We grieve over the ending
That always looms
In August, November felt so far away
But the whole thing was gone
In the blink of an eye
And the blinks of our eyes
They blink back the tears

And then we wait
December, January, February,
March, April, May,
June and July,**
Until we meet again
And for some,
That was the end
And for others,
This is the last, second to last
Second or first time
It's all the same
Every year

Bittersweet.