November leaves me in gray,
the clouds above are gloomy
as they slowly move to add
more shadows on the ground,
flowers once alive are brittle
from the cold and lack of
the glorious sun who weaved
her magical wand over earth.
November leaves me in gray,
a uniform worn in protest,
a non-descript color which
follows me day-to-day as I
trudge along living in a
colorless world dreaming
about verdant hills dotted
with wild pink flowers kissed by sun.
November leaves me in gray,
a somber feeling looming about,
what was joyful in warmer weather
becomes a fragment of a memory,
hanging like an intricate spider web,
a temporary collection of bits and pieces,
flashing before my eyes as a reminder
that November is preparing me for winter.