October

October...is a lovely lass,
She travels through the town.
Crimson-spangles by the yard,
Are stitched upon her gown.

She dances lightly on her toes,
In some rare, magic game.
And dashes through the country-side,
When trees are most in flame.

I see her every evening,
When skies begin to blush.
She stands so shapely in her form,
With sunset...there to blush.

So much...that on the horizon,
There's brilliance to behold.
Bright shades that mock the orient,
And tucked among the gold.

There's a great stone-castle on the hill,
Where a knight...in armored-grey.
Lifts up the lass to a prancing mare,
And with her rides away.


E.P. 1908 - 1989