Monday, August 29, 2016
September is Whispering To Me
I tell the month.
But, alas, it is not quite yet here.
I try to make my words reach its ears.
But there is a day or two in between us/
like a wall/
It'll be here soon.
September will come.
And I will be here.
Because that is what I do for people, for things, for what I love.
I whisper back.
I hold on.
I hear your whispers because I listen.
I am calling to you back,
though I know you can't hear me.
Don't worry, friend.
Because I am here.
And we'll see each other soon.
Then it hit me...
Am I waiting for September?
Or am I waiting for you?
Yellow sweeps over me like a daze and the streets bustle with voices of confusion and the bed I sleep in feels like eggs cracked and scrambled and he looks like a page from a book and it's okay because I like reading but every book has an ending and I don't always like the endings.
September, however, is a beginning and you could be too.
The wait smells like grace,
I'll bask in that like I bask in the sunshine I am breathing in.
September, come soon, love.