November -- no - - I'm not giving up

A poem that ponders the fact of our brief existence

By Irina PattersonPublished 3 years ago • Updated 3 years ago • 1 min read

Image by _Alicja_ from Pixabay

November, no, I'm not giving up, not yet.

It's not too late, and my hair has yet to be touched by the early glitter of the forthcoming winter.

My life has been already long and arduous, it's true. But for now, my responsibility is still to my future, and the future must be built on what I've got today.

I know, November, we don't know how much time we have left, but we do know it is finite, and I think of you as a final call, a reminder to reflect on anything I would want to accomplish before my own demise.

You are my month in which I need to show my resolve. I think I know where I am going, but there are still things I need to clarify for myself…

I don't know how much it will take, or when it's going to be enough, but this time around, I hope to find the right answers, November.

Stay with me, I'm not giving up, not yet.

. . .

Thank you. You can read my other Vocal stories here.

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About the Creator

Irina Patterson

M.D by education -- entertainer by trade. I try to entertain when I talk about anything serious. Consider subscribing to my stuff, I promise never to bore you.

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