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Come November
A wind, sharp and cold
Leaves the trees shaven,
Of such colors bold
Yet, in my mind are graven
Come November days
Less sunlight remains,
Where it stayed and plays
Filtering, as it drains
Through amber waves
Leaving my heart warm,
In my memory saves
Before the first snowstorm
Be it white by morning
No more gold and red,
Be it winter's warning
That autumn is almost dead
Come November nights
Stiffened by the chill,
The dappled sunlights
Cling to my soul still.
Copyright ©
Kelly Deschler
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