WRITTEN BY: OWEN TEMPLE & WALT WILKINS
Spring is all show biz, goes off like a riot
A season of passion that just won’t be quiet
A chaos of color, flowers, and weeds
All the poets rave on and on about spring
And summer’s a trail by fire, by furnace
Test of your faith and dogged endurance
Sweat and black pavement and sunburned skin
Somehow we made it through August again
To a bouquet of pencils, sharpened and yellow
The first autumn leaves falling from high
A breath of cool air, there on your pillow
From a window that’s finally opened up wide
May all of these things help you remember
That I love you more, more like September
And winter’s a bore, slow and cold
Nights are too long with too many clothes
A still life picture all white and grey
Stuck locked inside, not like today
A bouquet of pencils, sharpened and yellow
Red and orange leaves falling from high
A breath of cool air, there on your pillow
From a window that’s finally opened up wide
May all of these things help you remember
That I love you more, more like September
Yeah I love you more, more like September
© 2022 Owen Temple & Walt Wilkins Owen Temple Music (BMI) / Pedernales Riversongs (BMI)
