I know the song of September by heart, I've been singing it since before i can even remember being in love with anything.
A season so closely linked to death, is the season that makes me feel most alive. September creeps in slowly, it begins as a far off sound, and quickly developed into school bells, and crunchy leaves and the crack of a fire.
September is humble in it's beauty. It does not boast of it's firey leaves, or the sweet smell in the air.
The smell of the familiar.
September is comforting, constant in it's buzz. September is populated by potlucks, backpacks and hurry. It's football games, and rainy days, and reds, oranges, and yellows.
It's the buzz of things to come, and going back home.
It's the sound of an old friend you haven't seen in a while. It walking into a place you know by heart and sitting down for awhile to remember, and to be thankful.
I love September's song, and i'll sing it until there is no air left in my lungs.
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