For the new victories in the battles I started during August nights,
and the silence of God’s voice as a response to my prayers.
bring warmth and silk bedsheets
come in with a smile from the sunset’s orange kisses.
Dear September,
As August fades into summer’s shadows
and winter hurries with a little brush of her frosty hands.
Let your arms be a soft cushion,
a compensation for the year’s miseries
I ask nothing but a few words for my poems,
I ask nothing but another hand to lead mine out of loneliness
I ask for nothing but peace and calm that smells like morning coffee and acoustic guitar songs.


© Hope