I used to love September, but now it just rhymes with remember.
Yeah – Sure I remember
Matter of fact it was just last September
She still calls it the fall to remember
Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and they will come forth, later, in uglier ways.
In his or her own way, everyone I saw before me looked happy. Whether they were really happy or just looked it, I couldn’t tell. But they did look happy on this pleasant early afternoon in late September, and because of that I felt a kind of loneliness new to me, as if I were the only one here who was not truly part of the scene.
We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer’s wreckage. We will welcome summer’s ghost.
for all I can really do is
in September’s rain
soaking it all in
holding on to poetry
for dear life.
In the face of impossible odds, people who love this country can change it.