the draft colder than before, but reality won’t let me close the door, and september creeped up in places it shouldn’t be. all i’m left with are heat-scorched memories, but these damn seasons won’t let me keep them. take me to the place where summer winds were banished, back when we acted like we know how to sail. no golden flags could ever take us any faster. we wanted too much, so we paddled all this way instead. september creeped up in places it shouldn’t be. or am i not in the places that are good for me? but these damn seasons force me to leave them. -Writing on Waves
A poem about the changing seasons. Summer moved on, but I feel like I haven’t moved on. I don’t want to be reminded that time moves so fast. Why are we near the end of the year?
I was reflecting back on the summer. Thinking back makes me wish we can still have fun.
All I’m left with are heat-scorched memories, but these damn seasons won’t let me keep them.
As much as I would like to have those moments again, the seasons won’t let me.
What else can I do, except move on?
2021/09/20
