November first

by

Crystal Dawn Allen

November first,
ten in the morning.
The thin sun has barely enough weight
to anchor the shadows
it senses no urgency in warming
soil that cradles nothing but bones

(the way you look at me)

Look, but don't touch
Touch, but don't taste
Taste, but don't swallow

This is your way of doing things,
he said to me.
You remember
even though you weren't there

but here you are, residing
winking from the watchful birch eye
like you never were in hiding

I'm amazed you haven't disappeared
despite the storming Atlantic seasons,
you remain just enough to remind

it was clinging
devotedly, growing into the rings
then cataloged
as one of the warmer winters

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Wedding Proposal
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Crystal Dawn Allen's poems, click HERE

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