Here in November

A Poem By Hannah W. // 9/27/2012

How can I tell them about the cold?
Here, such a penchant for rain
we have,
and such an unhealthy love of snow
we have,
We have hopes
made of steel and icicles.

And it’s strange—

Hey, here’s something cold and gray:
night falling, snow falling, eyes falling
asleep,
eyelids like a sagging roof,
and me like a crooked bend
in the highway.

And it’s strange—
But don’t you think it’s strange?

Oh, don’t wake me
from the cold and the snow and the rain.

Comments

Oh, it's beautiful. I love

Oh, it's beautiful. I love it. :)

Melissa | Fri, 09/28/2012

Strange.

But I like-it-type-strange.

"eyelids like a sagging roof"

Great picture that paints!!

Maddi :D

Maddi | Sat, 09/29/2012

Goodbye? Oh no, please. Can’t we just go back to page one and start all over again?” – Winnie The Pooh

Your poems always grab me

Your poems always grab me from the first line, Hannah, and hold me until the end.

Anna | Fri, 10/19/2012

I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief

Dropping in on this dear site

Dropping in on this dear site after a long, long absence, I noticed this and found it very resonant. "And me like a crooked bend
in the highway"--that's lovely.

Annabel | Wed, 11/07/2012

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