By Isa Boere
these silent september skies
do nothing
but remind me
of the golden brown in your eyes
with the breeze
caressing my skin
and the tall grass touching my knees
like your hands once did
while the blackbirds sing their song
after rainfall, the world covered in dew
september is a wicked, wicked month
because i am spending it without you
Image source: https://unsplash.com/photos/DLNoV-SFQ-U
