The familiar small towns,
On the way
To Georgian Bay,
Have gone;
Box store intersections sprawl
Where General Stores once served.
It's hard to find pie and coffee,
To watch the cows come from the barn,
Or comment on the standing corn,
Of a late September morn.

It is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
And waltzes with her prince, The Fall Wind.
But when the clock strikes twelve,
Winter comes along with her December and January Winds,
Snatching up Autumn’s bright apparel
And clothing her in nothing but somber tatters.
Autumn keeps quiet, until the first rays
Of Spring’s long awaited sunshine
Touches the depths of Winter’s dark dungeon.
Autumn is showered with Spring’s rain,
And is coaxed into fashioning a new dress
With the same warm, golden tones of color,
But, this time, in a different pattern.
It is Summer’s sunshine, now, that assists Autumn,
With an occasional July thunderstorm to help form the new dress.
August passes by to give his opinion, and Autumn is finally ready.
For it is in Septembers, Octobers, and Novembers
That Autumn dresses up,
Adorned in warm, golden tones of color,
to waltz with her prince, The Fall Wind.

You speak to me in flowered words
I suckle their sweet nectar
Lured in by colored verse
But gone by late September

The waves of September crashing hard,
Onto the shore of deserted island,
Sculpting a sand sculpture of two lovers,
That promises forever but lasted a jiffy.

Still in blue from the bitter truth,
But what can I do, the choice is yours,
To stay or to leave.

Sensing the scent of yours,
Every night,
Smell like the open sea and cold cosy night breeze,
A little bit of dampen forest floor,
With wild black roses and daffodil.

In the night of middle September,
I thought I have deceased you from my thought,
But I am hiding you further and further inside my mind.

The waves are no longer violence now,
The moon is no longer blocked by dark clouds,
And I am no longer blinded by feelings.

I lied.

its been so long since I’ve written you down
and since, there have been other you’s that have
come and gone
like these seasons,
steady

so now it is Fall again,
the time last year during which my heart was aching
as you vanished from my side;
I stopped and watched as
you went;
you went so
slowly

i stand now, still abandoned
like a tree from its leaves
but I do stand,
and I wonder what you’re doing now,
but only for a moment
before I continue walking;
listening
as the leaves that were silenced
crunch beneath my sentimental feet.

The sun...

Rising over the halcyon river on this brisk September morning made for a wondrous sight.

The rising and beginning of a brand new day as this ferry makes its way to Whitehall.

A brand new day that is still riddled with one question.

She is green tea with honey,
summer days and blonde hair.
She is a golden retriever
and a husky,
happy, intelligent, yet reserved.
She is the beach and a sunrise,
campfires and s’mores in the warm air
breathing in the dust and smoke,
laughing about two years ago.
She is incense and paintings,
blue walls and ceilings,
she is a ***** joke said
offhand with raised eyebrows,
she is stacks of books and video games,
she is bubblegum ice cream and
walking through a cemetery.
She is old technology and practicality,
she is punctuality  and arriving
early with a peach smoothie in hand.
She is the cold shock of river water.
She is alternative music blaring from
a ****** car radio and a road trip
where everyone but the driver falls asleep.
She is rock candy and ice cream bars, riding the biggest
roller coaster ten times over again.
She is a content silence and
a sly smile.
She is mine and you cannot have her.