the skies
for all their November blue-brilliance
are poised for
rain
they cry for all of yesterday's
remembrances
and I am my brother's keeper
and I am my Mother's pretended friend
and my Father's lost soul
who are you
in all of this
blue-brilliance
this sky show
of last leaves
and ruby glow
so scarlet
they remind me of blood
and the ties which no longer tie
November is the month
where memory goes to die
and wither
and fall to the ground
waiting for winter winds to sweep
them all around
we who have slumbered through
this year that never was
a parade of ghosts
and lack of showing
where is everyone and everything going
to the dusk
and to the dust
and to the shroud
what are these shadow words
we scream aloud
full of voice
but meaning
almost nothing.
legal copyright for this poem 1:33pm PST time and date stamped
directly to the page
and also for this writer/author Melissa A. Howells
and also for this Legally Copyrighted and Registered Site Title
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
