October, in Season

It has been near a year.
I reflect the precious months I strove,
as they fly off their binding on the wall.

We have just one year, no more.
So short the clock, kettle is whistling on the stove.
Cardigan and tea in hand, I am out the door

August and September so black and white,
My darling, walk with me to the Maple grove,
in October morning's bright, blessed sun light.

Our aging hearts dance and race, we have reason!
though fortitude, come we together to what glory wove!
Intact with grace, we come into season!

DreadfulBride

Author's Note

I hope I managed to convey a life time as a year.