Another September come and gone. The change from summer to fall, from green to red. I sat on my porch step examining the leaves, mostly brown and crisp now, but there were still some precious red, bright and inspiring. This was the only thing I liked about fall: the red. It was vibrant and exciting while everything else was dull and brown; the grass, the trees, the flowers.
September was a sad time for me, the summer fun was long gone, faded away faster than the green did. I wasn’t always like this, so morbid and masochistic. In fact, many, many September’s ago I loved the browns and yellows. That was before—well before he disappeared from my life. Mr. Jonathon Kingston , more perfect than any man, or so I thought.
He swept me off my feet about ten September’s ago. He came and I couldn’t help but fall in love with him.
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