September morn,
my brother was born,
He was the youngest of
us all.
A Comment by Loy
Love this one ❤️
September morn,
my brother was born,
He was the youngest of
us all.
I believe that I will always remember,
The unique sight and sounds of September.
The colors of Fall, the changing trees,
As the vibrant yellow and reds, of leaves,
Sun rises, on crisp, frosty morning,
Suddenness of a Fall storm, without warning,
The brightness of days, crisp and clear,
Are memories, that I will hold dear.