Saturday, September 12, 2015

The Face of September

We walk barefoot in September
The strange familiarity of the woods will always give me a sense of belonging
We set a flame
A fire
the earth we walk on
Smoke in the distant fog
Guiding us to our next destination
We grew up here
We grew near here
We belong here
Old flowers scattered across the attic floor
Once beautiful
Breathing the lives into summers past
The old guitar plays in the distance
I listen long
I listen with reverence
Playing that old song we used to swing to
Apple ale
Dying cigarettes still glowing on the ground
To that melancholic sound
We dance to remember
We dance to forget
When we are exhausted we sit down and cross our legs
Swaying to the beauty of it all

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