November

Early November morning rays
of cool light turn warm as they

pass through the gossamer
veils upon the window.

I could almost imagine
the decay of autumn and

the dormancy of winter
are over but the frosty air

tells me a different story.
I know this to be factual because

I am made of water. Instead
of melting I am giving off winter's breath.

Instead of warming I chill all around
me with the reverie of my heart.

I'm impervious to frost bite.
I glow like a child's rosy

cheeks but within me are
icebergs for sinking ships.

November 24