My
summer love,
Like
warm sand and soft skin
Turned
brown by a burning sun,
Gave
a last kiss for all that’s been,
A
parting act for a love she’s undone.
September’s
call,
A
wounded man’s wail,
Autumn’s
chill has just begun,
Reluctantly,
I set my mainsail
Untying
my knots one by one.
Shorter
days
Give
more time for sleep,
Time
for love stories to be respun.
Alone,
in my room, I sometimes weep,
Mine's a sonnet about a hit-and-run.
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