Dark November

Dark Novembers It’s the silence that is killing this cold November chilling Natures beauty with frost, stillness, color but no sound. A wiser woman knows the inner temperature of the soul paints the landscape to match their own a fool discovers the surfeit of despair This Thanksgiving day bleak, weak, sick, sad, still, quiet, reflective I had not to give the love you sought so you walked out, And the past knew you were to come… And like a reverberation of the all the relationships I’ve known The past and to come will follow the ripples of that first stone, I cannot love you in November I loved you all the months through September, many decades upon each, watching entropy teach me the ways to age… I make no sound but inside screaming Nature may be jesting in her seeming to mock whole the lamentation of all the secret silent sorrows of each soul.