My unsettled thoughts
seem to stir in November;
and I wonder, do you have
a month that you dread?
A time or a season
when angels forsake you,
to gather in valleys
with wings to be shed.
When hope becomes sand
sifting fast through your fingers,
cascading o'er beaches
where memories play.
Where you walked to your future,
and followed your dreams,
leaving footprints behind you
that waves swept away.
And I wonder today,
could you swim in that ocean,
on the blackest of nights,
without any fear?
Then a wind on my neck,
coldly curls up to whisper,
in the voice of a memory,
“November is here".
RLJ - 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment