When midst November gray you feel compelled
To trace your footsteps back to mid-July
Think twice, my friend, for happiness that dwelled
There once, has left forever, do not try
To chase that summer that has gone to sleep
Do not disturb it in your memory’s deep
Do not look back, for there is no return
Your giant trees are dwarfs now, all is small
And brittle, the performance that you yearn
To see, is finished, it’s the curtain call
Don’t make your treasures take the final bow
Leave them with peace, my friend, come back to now
Come back to fall, let go, and you might find
That gray’s becoming, days are all the more
Delightful, since they’re short, November’s kind
And so are you. Much kinder than before
And some sun day you might in autumn’s eye
Perceive a twinkle of that lost July
Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (a.k.a. "Happy")
prompted by Poetic Asides
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