And now it’s Novembers turn to blaze across the sky.
Ho! Blaze he will.
With pockets spilling light festivals,
Crimson petals and turkey feathers rain down onto the table.
So that come what may we shall never forget.
Not Ever.

© 2023 Juliette Proffitt ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

THE ABOVE POEM WAS WRITTEN BY AND REMAINS THE PROPERTY OF THE AUTHOR. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THE AUTHOR GRANTS PERMISSION TO SHARE UNALTERED POSTS ONLY WHEN EXPLICITLY CREDITING THEM. NO OTHER REPRODUCTIONS ARE GRANTED WITHOUT PRIOR PERMISSION.

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