it's the traces of fall, the footprints left behind for others to follow the dogs barking incredously and the old wrinkled man wandering the streets dodging the dark empty cracks on red bicycles. passing thomas and thomas dr. forever and once again. chirping birds with constant weariness of the sirs who impose blindness on that which sees -who dont think we can see the worn white knees of their acid washed jeans drunken fellas boister their manly sick love across the street september, death september, this is what it means. It passes unnoticed into the October wakes and the November black chills. Children who once played with love and summer life their songs of sweet laughter fade, echoing into the death september nights. @
I like the first stanza. Then you get extreme. Fall is an end of things but it's also a time of incredible beauty. Haven't you ever been haunted by the magic of a November night and its clear, star-rich skies?
kidder, fall has a tendency to produce in me a melancholy of spirit, a sort of sad calm....and i was feeling bitter at the men around me who seemed to be stealing innocence... @
Pretty good, though dark, I can relate to your impressions. Fall is a sad time for me too, the shorter, colder days, everything seems to be dying, and if I'm not careful and sure to observe the good, I easily can slip into a depression. Just so you know though, you have a few misspellings. it should be "incredulous" and in the 2nd stanza fourth line: "which". Also, where ever you use a hyphen, I'd break the line there.
