Losing September

I remember the day I lost September.

It was a chilly autumn day,
the leaves only days ago began
to change their colors. Some
had already fallen;
a crisp layer under her
black leather boots.

The wind that
persisted for the past
couple of days; finally
still.

It had been her
idea to go to the river.

There had been a tree,
some type that I never
would figure out, and naturally
September had to climb it.
Lying on the branch
she resembled a sprite. Green
hair dangling down as she slowly
reached toward the water.

She had summoned for me
but I was afraid to answer.
Uncertainty took over
and I became terrified that
someone like me would
never be worthy of
her love.

The branch snapped, neither of us had
predicted its vulnerability, and
the grace was gone.

They found her body
five miles downstream, but
I already knew she was
dead.

I had lost my September.