I remain nameless, so I shall say this only once, name me!

I feel you more deeply
every time September comes around
your memory kisses me
through sunbeams, below pines

I feel it so intently
every time evening draws-in
your kisses still mesmorise me
through moonlight, under stars

That filtered September sun,
searching through pines and birch
landing close to me
unable to pick up those fallen pieces
which went down
south in that glorious summer
when I could fly
and face the sun head on
now I turn, and hug myself
-it's enough for me
enough for me
yes-
enough for me..
now that September comes too soon
you rose like a sun
and went down when I was burnt
you saw another horizon
and kept your rays ahead
leaving me stranded and cast aside
in the faded light of day
Still feeling you
I stop to hug myself
-not enough for me
not for me
no-
not for me

----------

piece by piece I feel
all of you
from every piece
of me

Weekend past, and was it good?
Well, last Thursday and Friday were much better, Saturday and Sunday were simple days over the weekend, nothing more, nothing less.
Working and studying nihongo.
But Norwich City did get their first league win of the season, and Liverpool, drew 0-0...so that's three games, one win, two draws, ONLY one goal and none conceded.
Cisse is rightly upset, and Owen is on the other side of the Pennines...with none of our regular strikers having found the net in the Premiership yet. But early days, early days~~~

I'm listless today, lacking the joyous energy of the tail end of last week. My friend demanded so much of my time, and took so much of my energy, that I'm limping through the morning now. Helping another's emotional problems is a good deed, I believe, but in order to do our best, we ourselves get emotionally involved and totally drained.
Anyway, Morris Womble Blogflirt is by my side...

It's funny, but last September, Paul Oakenfold's, Southern Sun (Solarstone after hours mix) marked the whole territory of that autumn for me, and out of the blue, so it has this week too.
Listening to this song, in my car, by Yare Valley sunsets, and harvest moon delights, I'm spine-chilled beyond any words,
Seeking a past in every sunset, I see you each time, like a haunting, silhouetted cloud staring at me, before the golden sun slips away.

piece by piece
I release
what once was mine