September

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We used to understand the way of the world.
We knew pain meant skinned knees,
and that right or wrong determined gold stickers or timeout.
We knew that fear dealt with the monsters under our beds,
and that sorrow was for the ants we squished.

September came that year
in a hundred shades of Amber
each unique as the leaf it colored

The beauty left early though,
in a cloud of smoke and debris
stealing away the innocence we had come to known
in a swift motion no different from the falling leaves of the trees.





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