I feel old.

It must be October.

It must be the pumpkin-flavored everything.

I am no longer pumpkin-flavored.

I am nutmeg. Nutty.

I see my reflection in the subway window.

I think,

“I need Botox.”

I am becoming

invisible – like all the New York belles, wrinkled, made up,

inevitable.

I don’t care – and then

I start singing –

“I don’t care. I love it.”

I am silly, happy. humming to myself on the subway.

I am not yet that creeping cold November.

I am still this playful hot October.

In the beginning of the autumn month.

I am still jumping in a pile of leaves, singing songs to and of myself.

It must be October.

I don’t care.

I love it.

Related articles

• Rolling in Pumpkin (ottbeerguy.wordpress.com)
• This poem inspired me A Pep Talk for October
• The Daily Prompt: Symmetry This was today’s assignment: Start every line with the same letter.
• Another Fall Writing Retreat – in the Adirondacks