The Fall

August carries with it every time It comes again—like a familiar rhyme— The sweet and tender sense of bygone days Like this; a promise kept that all will be All right for friends and family, and me. Proceeding it each year, September’s kiss: A cool and subtle flame, not unlike this— But passionate, erasing my malaise; Her lips come off me with a charming growl, And echoes of October’s eager howl. October comes with light and dark abreast, And not unlike a hasty party guest— Such energy and charm, do ever stay! She grins, “I love to be here, don’t you know? “Though really I adore it, I must go.” And When she goes, enters my friend November, With always something pleasant to remember— Then how my spirit climbs without delay! He walks me to an unreached elevation, And parts with just a word, “Congratulations.” Then, When autumn chooses to no longer linger, I’m met with sweet December’s icy fingers. Upon the coming year I fix my gaze— Spring will be here as soon as January; We’ll wallow life and love, and all be merry.