When You, Forget Me Poem by James McLain

And you will
when you last wrote me.
September's bridge to the fall
Autumn calls.

One line,
One continous line, these lights are.
I can't understand the poetry
in them the way it impacts us all.

Pretty leaves on a limb the truth rests.
Stranding the face of you others have
when youth does.
Each path that we find at the bottom,
mum and dad walked before.
Rebirth of the choices most make.
Saving ourselves we must have and the.
Then choices made not by you come to pass.

When you last wrote me the choices were yours.
September's deprssion falls freely past me
to land some where, where Autumn falls.