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.
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