October 8th, for 8th

A month of surprises

October is smack at the end of the year, meaning that what one thinks is already established for the remaining 90 or so days is not really established. Anything can happen before the new year, and so I feel as if I should remark that a lot of personal-growth & experience can occur in a short amount of time. October is like the turning point of a record album, the last 3 or 4 songs before silence. Or even like a book's final chapters, or a game's pending solution.

This piece was written in the middle of September this year. A short story of the likes. I felt its Halloween ambiance to be appropriate for today.

Now, It's Gone

He took his ship past the port

Across the stream, up the gloom

As it hit the shore it seemed to float

Time in air, as a cardinal feeling

Now it's gone

& so he walked his way East

in dark hallow, in light & mist

So he approached Miss's house

Open gates now rusted, like her in front

Now what's wrong

Then as sadness down her cheek

He entered with her & took the blame

The poor pained kids; lively then dead

Bitter tasting drink with sad supper

Now what's left

Arrow blow, he felt appointed here

Woman belittles; as he precise little mark

Burden for crime, apology then more bread

For is savored but not the same

Now who talks

Lips pasty powdered of him

Crumbs on the table as on the floor

So the chair falls as does he

Grand moment, thoughts of what's true

Now he's gone 

Written September 10th, 2017