[Hymnal Measure Structure, a4,b3,c4,d3 with internal rhyme]
Come sit by my side, my sweet August bride,
We’ll speak of the things we hold dear.
Of wind in the trees and fire in the leaves
At our favorite time of the year.
Don’t you remember how deep in December
We’d listen to snow softly falling?
Though faint in the ear its message was clear,
A breeze from up north had come calling.
I wish there were more than just these twenty-four
Hours to spend in a day.
Then we’d go far, our guide the North Star,
And surely—at length—find our way.
But what to do until then, my dear, treasured friend,
As hope’s often met with dismay.
Hearing all the day’s news and questionable truths,
The will to do good goes astray.
So let’s run and hide, my wise August bride
To a place that no one can find.
On a mist-covered shore we’ll be happy once more,
As we leave the real world far behind.
5th Place, Any Poem Goes, Poet Destroyer A