Fall on 21st street smells like rotting plums and apples.
kicked down the hill and mashed underfoot
by the kids reluctantly returning to school.
disapointment hangs in the grey clouds
which soon bring rain to wash the summer away
and after that
the next morning
you are left with that fake seattle sun
the kind that shines but brings no warmth
the air smells fresh and clean
a new school year is here
but all it brings is dashed hopes
of what the summer could have been
and over ripe plums that fell off their tree
and apples that get kicked down the hill in competitions
Fall has come to early
the smiles fade from childrens faces
and only a grave look of dread is passed between two kids going opposite ways
no matter what age
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