November met me
Like an old foe
Shrouded in a sticky darkness
A fog encompassed being
Beckoning me from former dreams
Behind the grey
The smokescreen
I know there is a sun to rise
It doesn’t want me to see
It stings my skin
The sterile forceps pulling me from my warm place
November,
Why would you taunt me so?
You fight so much stronger
In the throes of my woes
I am lost in your shadows
November,
Where has my lover gone?
Where have your winds swept him to?
The ghosts of our many a’dying
Are lonely wailing creatures
Spectral remnants I walk hand in hand with
I will walk them home
On your slick sidewalks
Spectral remains remember the body
The bride
The homecoming
The son on the horizon
November met me,
Like an old friend
Shrouded in a sticky darkness.
I also modified this poem into a Petrarchan sonnet:
11/03/2025
~cmw
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