By Emma Bush

We say goodbye for the last time.

The clock is going to turn back soon, the season is changing fast.

The sidewalk is full of people and leaves, and we’re all turning colors.

Long nights for lots of dreaming, short days are easier to fill.

The walls wait patiently for the suns early rays.

I broke myself open for this.

The clocks and hearts and time kept going, but we didn’t.

I walk alone which I am used to, a half that is whole.

Things changed, time passed.

I was sad, mad, but what for?

The leaves are not upset when they leave the branches, they

know it’s for the best, and now so do I.

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