August

By Namrata Sarkar

August is my name and I am no one's favourite.

September is everything that August leaves behind.

And October, oh my, tries and tries to lift our spirits only to be condemned as the fall.

There's the breeze of cold air and November's here to warn you of what lies ahead.

December annotates itself with every leaf that the trees on your backyard shed.

A New year, a whole new day but January is as freezing cold as before.

Love makes sure to exit as soon as February enters through the door.

April is the crown of flowers you wear with those bees hovering around your head.

But wait, remember to include March, for isn't it the connecting link between what's lost and what's found?

Nevertheless, may you stay warm, May whispers as it burns everything that it fixes it's eyes on.

Glimpse of heatwaves and showers of rain and June is long gone only to hail the thunderstorms, so you are telling me it's July even before I begin to count the days?

And August is my name and I am no one's favourite.

This story's a circle, the only thing that never made its way back was the love I gave.

My name's August and I will never be his favourite.

By Namrata Sarkar