The Month is November
The month is November,
and the light is reclusive
from this frost-bitten wood,
and the trembles of folks
with sunny dreams; carrying
on down the sidewalks and slick roads.
The cloud doesn’t know much else but
to swell, pour, and move – just as I.
Everything must carry on.
The light must go today
just so we can appreciate
it tomorrow.
And there is dread and relief in
knowing that when you go,
everything will carry on
without you.
Thank God
the fate of the world
doesn’t depend on
my well-being.
Things aren’t always
so well these days,
but I’m carrying on.
Irvin Lee is a 21-year-old writer and a native of Chicago who now resides in the state of Indiana. For updates on upcoming works, follow him on Instagram @inkerpoet