in my lost September
the air sighs a cooling breeze
the days sing with school bells
emerald colors start to slumber
and the soil asks for its rest
and under a harvest moon
are caramel apples and Ferris wheels
and nights echoing from a lakeside choir
yet there are moments in between
that are stained in sadness
with names written in dust and broken glass
the clocks stopped
the air screamed
endlessly lost is my September
