september home – By: D.e.e.L

drifting seconds
fall away
today is december
tomorrow may
be too late
for june to come
where was april?
i’ve been so numb
i must have skipped it
where has the time gone?
the clock is dripping
pushing me
off i go
to misery
where i find a hand
that wraps to my own
in this poorly lit september home
in these dark woods
or so it feels
upon this street
of endless chills
where all the people
only walk
not speaking a word
high above
a sparrow
careless in its search

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