November Came...

and went
with 30 suns
and 30 moons
Moments crept by
but were gone
too soon

Each night fell
upon her shoulders
carelessly
forcing the sun to set
and each day roared
through her pores
without hints of regret

Bold and faded
contrasts…
her colorful ego was delicate like leaves
She chose to be the dying beauty
with temporary attachment to the trees

Her silence was like crisp winds
and her mood interchangeable
like warm kisses through gray clouds…
only to pass before comfort arrived
She’s extraordinarily humble
and disgustingly proud

Nearing the end of her cycling whisper
November recounted her 30 suns
but cried because they had gone too soon
then she took her last breath
without prediction
or retelling of preceding months…
and gracefully faded away with the last of her 30 moons