September
Another September
has come with its songs of silence.
I write for you even though
I can’t remember your face.
Scent of a dry September
dreams of children that come home
nightmares of mermaids that love.
I wonder what memories you hold.
Pictures. Moments. Sounds.
This is a river of no return.
September creeps in my soul.
I try to remember your face.
September is the time of regret.
Elisa C. Martinez Salazar