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.
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