Foolish November

She chose November

And allowed leaves rolling back like a kaleidoscopic canvas to touch her face

She chose November

for solace from thriving grievances and displeasing conjectures,

disappointments so grave they mar the mirror

She chose November

to learn the concept of love

and quit the billows of cigarette that never nourished the soul

but that by degrees burned her lungs beyond midnight

She chose November

to perch at the cradle of the piano

and let the veins of her fingers play melodies of remembrance

there was a time she cried night and day

but this November

she bathes differently in the urn of her misery

growth expands with numbing blue days

but like a form of prayer, she has made it her own