Song For September

On a morning stilled an oak shadows the yard as leaves wait to fall but summer lingers another day. I write a love poem to someone once met at a blues bar one summer during college days, but crumple it put it in my pocket. It was getting late that night, but when talking with each other we lost track of time when we danced and when in each others’ arms, the music played. The skylight over the dance floor captured the soft glow of the moon as we got to know each other. Her two-year old son was at her mother’s house where she was staying when getting a divorce, and I was looking for my time and place. But we were living that moment as if there was no tomorrow. Her eyes glistened— and in that moment of silence I could feel her pain. After the music played I had to go home, and she had to go back to her son— the blues always said dues must be paid. But we dated until jobs and distance tore us apart. Now I look outside to see shadows spread across the lawn. The side street is broken— all streets are broken as I move place to place and rain drops streak tears down a clouded windowpane.