September
September and days grow short
student’s new for me to sort
labour of love some may say
mostly though I toil for pay.
Witness to sweet autumn’s prize
Fall Fairs, joy in children’s eyes
from their vision new dreams rise
each finds purpose their own way.
Some may stumble, trip the wire
others grasp their heart’s desire
as their allotted days transpire.
September and days grow short
student’s new for me to sort.
Form - Boutonniere: https://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tag/13-lines/
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