I keep dried flowers on my porch
Whole ones, some only petals
Some stolen from my neighbour's overgrown bush
It is an offering to those who live
On the other side of this world
September makes me think
They can crossover
As the sun slowly retreats
And darkness takes over
Magic blooms in every bud
It rises from every leaf that falls
And settles down with cold air
On the pavement it enters the shops
Ruffles my hair and rests on my bosom
Woven in the sleeves of my beige cardigan
Laced with the scent of dried flowers