Letter to November
To November, I send my letter of love
sealed with a rose on the envelope
inside is my long list of hopes;
hopes not fulfilled
hopes running in the current time
and hopes waiting to come true.
November is pregnant with memories
of the spring and summer
rosy days and bleak ones
the dark ones I shed with the falling leaves
and the happy memories I plant with seeds
gotten in the past seasons.
November is neither hot nor cold
not a nightmare nor a sweet dream
it holds me in the layers of waking hours
when I am awake with sleep lingering
between my eyelids.
November opens the gates to winter
to warmth by the fireside
it whispers of the year’s ending
and holds another spring in its bosom.
I walk on the withered leaves
listen to the crunchy stories
and hope the wind will bring more down
one that I can catch;
catching a falling leaf brings good luck, you see.
And so, I shall post my letter of love to November
with a seal of Priority Mail.
Tulip Chowdhury writes from Georgia, USA.
