By Liz
Date: 2002 Nov 12
Comment on this Work
[[2002.11.12.16.57.20992]]

November Comes Again

The days are gray now,
the air turned heavy and cold
so crisp it hurts to breathe
at times,
and twilight comes at four o'clock.
Regret steals upon me
and locks its icy fingers
'round my throat
in these long, frosty nights,
and I labor under the weight
of memory,
of grandparents who died too young,
lovers who were lost,
a child who was never born.
I am so grateful for the good in my life
and hopeful for the season to come,
but I go into mourning
when November comes again.