By Ellie Rose McKee

September

September is silence.
Spiders creeping under doors 
in search of central heating.
The start of school and people 
rushing about, meeting other new 
students. New schedules.
Shifting off the old season.

But underneath: quiet.
A girl alone in her dorm room,
miles from home.
Her phone not ringing.
Dark night absent of fireworks.
Too early for blinking lights.
September, at the root, is silence.

Autumn is here.

Autumn

Shiver under the chill wind.
Walk home under drips of rain, 
wide eyes cast to the greying sky.

Bundle up and huddle close; 
hold tight. Don't slip in the
puddles. Let the leaves 

          fall.

Walk home to winter warmth,
the far side of the horizon.  

Ellie Rose McKee is a writer from Northern Ireland. She has had poems published by Arlen House, Nine Muses Poetry, and Black Bough; has had short stories included in Women Aloud NI‘s ‘North Star’ anthology, The Bramley, and Scarlet Leaf Review; and has been blogging for over ten years

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