Ah, November, time of Wonder
How now shall you cast my dreams asunder?
And weave your captive hypnotic spell
That I have learned to love so well?
You'll tear my defenses, unbalance my soul
And leave me feeling purely whole.
Dear November, so like love and lust
entwined
Drug maddened dove,
I've loved you dearly in my past.
Why does not your magic last?
I feel so weary in my mind
I tend to hide behind a blind
And live in dreaming wondrous free
While building barricades all through me.
If this be trap, then where's the spring
of Autumn that migrations bring?
When thoughts of leaving soak the brain
And all proclaim themselves insane
And revel in the loss of rules
'Til fearing that we've become fools
We hide again 'neath winter's frost
And count the moments that we've lost.
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Comments: 6
This is a fine ode Laurie. The Surreal Circus
The geese flying north,
to find their bearings
'round the lake,
catch my allusion that
fall is spring
and time is absent.
My daydreams tend to
my thoughts once past,
twice shy.
The hypnotist tired eyes,
glaze towards the farrest wall,
his empathy his trade,
always bound to fate.
If you wait for change in weather,
it may not be long,
and so it goes,
full circle,
four corners.
Grey pigeons,
when white are doves,
an olive branch,
to ones we love.
Life has four seasons,
soon for thanksgiving.
This write so resonates with me today. The bluster, the lifeforce, the knowledge that all could become still, under the weight of frost.