September

The toasted sand between my toes
the tepid tide that ebbs and flows
and lukewarm wind that gently blows
induce a peaceful slumber.

It doesn’t last and in a wink
a crisper breeze makes my heart sink
as I awake and sadly think:
tomorrow is September.

music by Ludovico Einaudi (Seven Days Walking: Day 1, “Golden Butterflies Var. 1”)

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