It comes—if its warning is unheard.
🌙
The wind's breath chills
Bringing whispers too cold to remain.
A sliver of light within frosty dark.
Silence in the trees—no chirping.
Black darkness moves—against stillness.
A shiver courses through my chest.
❄️
It comes—
Every November,
Lingering in the mind and soul,
A call to the self—
Creeping in to stay—
If not heeded.
🍂
Leaves that drifted,
Silhouettes that moved.
A dance to shape the soul
Its steps foretold—
For me.
For others.
👻
A ghost that haunts
Every November
Shadows trail its form
Leaves call frosty names—
If left unheard—ours.
🌌
What do you think the ghost is? Do share!
For Mikeydred's November Challenge
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.
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