September is Whispering To Me

I'm here!

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/

separating us.

It'll be here soon.

September will come.

And I will be here.

Waiting.

Because that is what I do for people, for things, for what I love.

I wait.

I whisper back.

I hold on.

I wait.

September,

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,

so,

I'll bask in that like I bask in the sunshine I am breathing in.

September, come soon, love.

Come soon.