Born in Autumn, a buffer season
Not Summer with days of sun
Fields of green with life abounding
And sparkling clear springs.
Not Winter with her majestic wonderland
Of brisk cold winds which kiss the skin
Of gentle snowflakes that fall to earth
Of a blanket of snow that sheets the earth
A covering that allows all to sleep for its rebirth.
Not Spring the beginning of life anew
When snowy fields give way to green grass kissed by Morning's dew
Of promises of love, the inner mating call
Spring a season of life, the most beautiful of all.
Born in Autumn
Things die, They give way
To winds that blow decaying leaves
From once beautiful green trees
Autumn poor Autumn how it yearns to live
A season of brilliant colors
Colors that are false for they hide
The fact what Autumn colors dies.
A season where not sure
Too cold to go bare arm
Too warm to wear a coat
So sweaters were made
Not too cold, not too hot are these days.
Spring a season of love
Summer a season of fun
Winter a season of rest
But Autumn a season of labor
You must reap the harvest
You must prepare for Winter.
I fell in love with a girl of Spring
A joyful, lovely, spirited thing
Her eyes were wild
Upon her face there was a suspicious smile
She was every thing a man could want
Carefree, laughter, emotions of Joy
O' my heart did she toy
Bountiful, free yes was she
This little girl of Spring.
I am a child of September
Born in the month that begat Autumn
Withdrawn, quiet, working hard
I have a strong desire to change the world
Just as Autumn does
It breaks down Summer, forces him to yield
To give birth to Winter
That is what Autumn does
And for all it's glory-for all it's change
Winter blankets him with her snow
So the change of Autumn goes unknown
So is the life of me
Only changing the scenery temporarily.
The other seasons understand
They have their place in time
They yield their beauty grand
But Autumn yearns for it all
He wants to fight
He waves his colors boastfully
He shines with colors bright
And Winter, she only laughs
And blankets him with her snow.
I fight for beliefs I hold dear
But yet I yield them to Time.
For Time rules all the seasons supreme
Time is the Father of all things
Time tells us we must only love
Those in which seasons we can share
Autumn could have Winter which he proceeds
But Summer has Spring which he succeeds
Autumn to Winter, Summer to Spring
That is how Time made it.
(continued September's Child Part two)