Rains of November Past

soft, the patter of rain on the skylight,
somnambulant song of slapping sog, sound
of autumn napping and the drear of gazing
backward toward quiet memory   .   .   .   somewhat
mesmerized, I sit at this desk pen in hand
and mind awash in rain that has fallen
from other november skies.     I was ten
that november they took mother away;
I remember early christmas, recall
having nothing but contempt for those gifts,
knowing they were meant as some pitiful
consolation  .  .  .  and I recall that for
three years I had prayed my young heart to tatters
that the madness of that house would end in fire.

David M Pitchford
3 Nov 2011

3 thoughts on “Rains of November Past

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