September 12, 2024
~ Third Place ~ Contest: September Falls Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Serene, the crisp of apple cider days Each morning lightly misted. Its mystique Perhaps a guise to hide from eyes the ways The pink hydrangeas rusted; chic to meek. Enticed, the chill does bring a woolen feel, Matured, the sun grows old by afternoon. Below persimmon skies of bonfire zeal Embraced in sweaters neath the moon, we swoon. Relinquish Virgo and the marigold For Libra sparkles in the sapphire night. As western winds turn cool and blue-jay-bold, Let’s reminisce love sonnets we did write. Like grapes on vines, we’ve ripened into wine, September lips, your champagne kiss on mine.
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