One day, In The Last Real Town, In the last real October, It will be the 31st—a Friday. And through some sympathetic working of the universe, All will open their eyes to a ceiling above. And hate will have not creeped under the pillows Of all the happy people. One day, In The Last Real Town in the last real October, The children will gaze in wonderment At the swirling, golden leaves That fall as if they are suspended by silks (they take all the time in the world) In time, Long hours of classes and coloring sheets, They will don their masks When the sun casts the streets in amber. And just miles away, The forests will be filled With the crunch of fallen foliage As young couples trot through the maze of sycamore and maple— Blissfully present Like playful revenants. The sun sets, One last supernova of peach and marigold Before the revelry takes on its dying form (exchanged candy and movies more camp than horror) Time was not there to turn the calendar page But it would have read November 1st. And the moon would have been awake In the youthful morning sky But the candy will lie uneaten — The parties uncleaned Because The Last Real Town Didn’t want to die a slow, warm death. So it picked a day.
David Fadem is a 2nd-year student at the Lehigh Valley Charter High School for the Arts, where he majors in Literary Arts and specializes in poetry. He enjoys cooking, taking walks in the cold, and listening to folk music.