SEPTEMBER. A Funeral Poem.
by Richard John Scarr
(Brighton, East Sussex, England)
And so-- Having reached my September.
And I contemplate the passing of time.
I hope the World is a little better for my being.
And maturing like a fine old vintage wine.
And while my Summer moves relentless towards my Autumn.
And I watch the season change from green to gold.
As the age lines in my face etch even deeper.
I accept with grace, the fact that I've grown old.
So, as I survey the World from my September.
And I reminisce on all the years I've had.
I have so very much to remember.
For I have had my share of all that's good. And bad!
And while at times, good fortune smiled upon me.
There were also times, I thought my heart would break!
And although God placed us here to learn his lessons.
I think I have learned as much as I can take!
So when at last my Autumn turns to Winter.
To vanish like Spring and Summer of my days.
As December takes the place of my September.
Like the seasons of my life. I'll fade away.
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