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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