September

A month that I always remember. It is in September that I first wrote a poem. I used all my imagination how the breeze of September passes by, feeling its coolness that brushes my skin and closing my eyes I saw a baby being lullabied. That is the picture in which exact words was put into places. Flawlessly rhymes after rhymes in each lines of two paragraphs. After the second paragraph I stop. I'm out of words the picture in my mind slowly fading and bacame blank. How my work was appreciated but with wonder why it has no end. Even myself could not give the answer the reason of stopping. I let someone finish the piece but in vain there was no correlation. Until now when September comes the poem flashes back and so with the memories of the past. It make me smiled. Those were the old golden days that I love to recall.