with the breath of winter
at the hairline of its neck.
I am the blood orange that
sours a little too soon.
A thirty day intuition
to a season of good will.
A blip on the side of
the road that melts easily
out of sight, out of mind.
An unremembered instance
on a torn index page
of a forgotten, spineless book.
I am lost November.
Remember me the instance
when you feel unremembered too.
I'm usually a lurking watcher, but this one caught my eye so much that I did have to comment on it.
Wow, this is simply stunning. Beautifully melancholic, with that touch of frost.
November is my favorite month, but I never thought of it this way.
Wonderful work; keep it up.
You're a really talented poet, and I look up to the way you weave your words together.
The magic starts from the title; it captured me and didn't let me go.
I don't know how it is on your side of the pond, but here in the U.S. many families celebrate Thanksgiving...many laughs, much food, and week away from school November most definitely is not forgotten
"Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin"
-- Zechariah 4:10
December is its time.