Hold fast the summer.

It is the beauty of the day

and all it contains.

The laughter and work and

finally the sleep. The quiet.

Oh September, do not put your

weight upon my mind.

For I know he will be going.

This son of mine who is now a man — he must go.

Time will lace my thoughts with joyous years.

The walls will echo his "Hello."

His caring will be around each corner.

His tears will be tucked into our memory book.

Life calls him beyond our reach — to different walls.

New faces, shiny halls, shy smiles, many places.

Greater learning — he must go.

But wait, before he leaves, be sure he knows you love him.

Hide the lump in your throat as you hug him.

He will soon be home again — but he will be different. The little boy will have disappeared.

How I wished I could take September and shake it,

for it came too soon.

I must look to the beauty of each new day,

and silently give thanks.

By Mary W. Able