September are made for fall daydreams,
While everyone else laments the end of summer,
There are a chosen few who dine with wicked delight,
Upon the ending of long sunny days,
Our roots are twisted deep with character,
Twining around much darker waters to be quenched upon,
Our lives lead up to long lasting even tides,
Deviously preparing for the first touches,
Of blazing color to scatter across sky and ground,
Let us eat warm soup while we swing,
Between crisp twilight breezes,
I desire a cloak of pitch and paths that lead on,
Between leaning headstones and a rising myst.
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.