November calls me by my name.

by Poet on the Piano   Nov 1, 2019

It snowed tonight, and though
we had plenty of warning,
I am still defenseless.

The cold startled all the warmth
I tried to create, no longer can I
walk barefoot, absent-minded.
Eventually, I will spiral like the
last snowflake falling into a
much desired spring.

Sleep now transports
me to desolate places;
everything empties itself
out at some point.
The trees barely changed skins
and now they are stripped raw,
their flesh exposed and I,
I cannot protect them.

I layer my heart,
take every precaution,
but I can't prolong the
numbness that comes with
trying to live in another dimension,
one that has chosen to forget me.
The flowers will call my name
no more.


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Latest Comments

  • 8 months ago

    by Dagmar Wilson

    This indeed touched my very soul for many different reasons. Add to my favorite and glad to it nominated. Hugs

  • 8 months ago

    by C Cattaway

    Isn't the scarcity of it all just so inspiring, though? A numbness that clears us of all that came before, & makes room for all that is yet to come? Space to create whatever new beginnings arrive in it's wake.
    Beautifully written. Less is more, & the beauty of the promise still awaits us x

  • 8 months ago

    by Em (marmite)

    I'm speechless...

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