October Moon
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The sun kisses her leaves,
yellow, orange, ready for another end;
and as unto us the obscurity blows,
out comes the light in her purest form,
fatter or thinner or different again.
And no one to meet,
maybe there never was,
and maybe there won’t be soon;
I wouldn’t mind much.
So here sits I,
one with the black,
a mediocre gleam
in the secret patch of the october moon.
And come, there, a soul,
another of darkness,
that paces and scuffles up a bumpy street,
sits down with a tumble
and holds my hand warm.
And though our heartbeats don’t match
I feel fulfilled and free.
About the Contributor
Lauren Nagy, Editor
Lauren is a senior at Freehold High School, eager to be entering her third year as a writer for The Colonial's literary magazine and her second year as an editor. An avid reader, she is also a multi-instrumentalist and enjoys knitting when she can find the time. Despite her place in the Medical Sciences program, she foresees a career in neither medicine nor science - and would rather study English, creative writing, and music in college. If she wrote a novel that one day became a widely beloved classic, that would be pretty nice too.
