August is the dying month br When hot July struggles to keep her hold br Moving toward a hopeless chilled September br Pretending to be summer br As if children heading back to school stir the cold from the sky br br It is a refined deceiver br br August is a butterfly crushed on a roadway br One side dead to the pavement br The other is still vibrantly flutteringly alive br Fighting to fly away but it’s fate is already sealed br br It is a delicate executioner br br August is the month colors trickle from trees br A first leaf unnoticed tumbles br Sheepishly the others will shortly follow br Shamefully they will drift to the ground br br It is a subtle destroyer br br August is 6 PM br The disillusion of a day realized br Dinners to be eaten alone br Murky dark mixes with the daylight br Spitting out gloomy gray br br It is a sophisticated betrayer br br August is the death rattle br Demise by means of a Fall br Stealing gaped mouth last breaths br Swallowing everything into its earth br Coughing back a cold winter in return.