Cold November
I admonish unto myself as I gaze thoughtfully at the grand flock of birds flying in circles;
It is as if they lost the current of wind that so directed them to the warm breeze
Of their winter home.
Their faulty lead so greatly mimics the threshold that I have broken on this cold November
day.
I cannot begin to explain my self-indulgence concerning quaint but ever so austere memories
Of the many realities I have beheld in my
lifetime.
While this racking of thought protrudes my mind in constant reverie,
I can’t relinquish the infallible gifts bestowed upon me graciously throughout my many trials.
Therein I find hope;
Hope that will assist me in this ferocious expedition to find the truth of my existence.
Copyright © Grace A Gagnon | Year Posted 2009
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